Coffee and Soda
by mori-princess359
Summary: Stupid title. Ignore it. Shay Noel Gideon is the daughter of Agent Gideon, but only Hotch knows this. What is this rivalry between Dr. Reid and Shay? Can it be called a rivalry? Watch as their friendship blossoms into something even better.
1. Chapter 1

"Coffee!" I announce as I push open the glass doors of the Behavioral Analysis Unit in Quantico, Virgina with my back, twirling around so I don't spill anything as the door almost hits me.

Hotch grabs his cup inscribed with a giant "H" on top on his way out, probably to turn in paperwork. I earn what I think is a smile and a small nod. Yesterday was the finished case of a man who murdered three girls in one week in Cambridge, Ohio. Reid's geographical profile led us straight to the killer.

I stick Garcia's cup, riddled with rainbow-colored designs, in the microwave, as I do every morning so she can pick it up on her way in. Emily rushed towards me. This means she didn't have her first cup at home this morning. She grabs Morgan's cup which has a giant "X" on the top, just so no one touches it (for safety purposes, if you get it...) and heads back to her desk where they chat about something.

Rossi always has his own. And I mean always. _No one_ can make his coffee how he likes; I learned this my first day on the job. I got the hint quickly, and stopped bringing seven cups, only six now. I don't drink coffee. It's too bitter, so I stick with a soda in the morning. It's weird, yes, I know, but I like it much more than coffee.

Last stop: Dr. Spencer Reid's desk. DON'T WANT TO. Here's why: Lately, he'd been avoiding me. I had no clue why. So I asked. BIG mistake. I got my head bit off, for what reason I have no idea, about how he had too much to deal with right now, blah blah blah. Whatever. I've only been here three months. What could I have done wrong? Beats me.

I stalk over to his desk, set down his coffee, and bee-line to Hotch's office to drop off the new case files. Another case. Great. I sigh as I walk into the room with the giant round table, the giant flat screen T.V., and the giant memory. Believe it or not (I don't think even I do) I grew up here. At the BAU. In this room.

Name: Shay Noel Gideon; Age: 19; Father: Jason Gideon. Interesting, isn't it? When Hotch, Emily, Rossi, Garcia, Morgan, Spencer, and JJ weren't even here, I was. Long before they stepped foot into this building, this department, this room, I played in here with my toys while Daddy read and read and read. Every day. All day. When I was just a little kid I payed no attention; I thought it was a book or something. Well, lots of books. As I got older, I got curious. Curiouser and curiouser, as they say (Reid would be proud). One day, curiousity killed the cat. Well, maybe not the cat, but the cat discovered another who had been killed. Murdered. Tortured. Mutilated. Dismemebered. You name it, some psychotic person had murdered a child, my age, in their own home. Gave me nightmares until I told my dad about it and he told me the story of how they caught the demented man. After that, I aspired to be just like my dad. Catch all the criminals.

I looked up from my Mountain Dew to see JJ organizing her own files. I haven't been here long, but I've already realized how vital JJ is to the team. She smiles at me, takes her coffee, and heads out the door, passing Spencer on his way out. Wonderful, just what I need to brighten up my morning. I review the papers, but don't really pay attention to them. I watch Spencer out of the corner of my eye. He wanders over to the windows and puts the blinds down - standard procedure before we have a meeting, I have come to learn. I see him finish the last one as he disappears from my view. I snap my head back to the case files in front of me and stare at one word: "the". What a great word I picked.

The lock clicked. I look up from the papers fully, with good reason this time. All I see is Spencer's back. I burn holes staring at his auburn-tinted sweater. There's hair all over the back. Dog hair. _'Didn't know he had a dog... Wait. FOCUS.'_ I shake my head to gather my thoughts. _'What the heck is he doing?'_ "Spe- Uh, Reid?" I don't actually call him Spencer, only in my mind. I would get weird looks, suspicion. Only JJ has the privilege of calling him something other than Reid, why, I don't know.

"We kind of need to talk." He says after a long silence.

"Oh, really? What an idea. Talking." I scoff when I say this.

"About your internship..." He starts. He stops.

"Woah, woah, wait. You want to talk about my _internship_?" I look at him in disbelief. I thought he was going to actually talk about our "argument" two weeks ago! What is this?

"Uh, yes. What were you expe-" He's interrupted again. But this time by the rattling of the door handle. Smooth one, genius (no pun intended).

I heave myself out of the plush leather chair and slink towards the door to unlock it. "We'll 'talk' later." I insert air quotes around talk (I figure it'll never happen). I slide the lock and swing open the door. Emily comes in first.

"Why... was the door locked?" She gives me a wary look as she sets down her coffee in her usual spot.

"Sorry. Force of habit. Live alone in an apartment; always lock every door." I shrug nonchalantly as part of my act. Heh. Pretty good actor, huh? I can lie to proffessional profilers. I look at Spencer with my you-owe-me-one face. He avoids my gaze, pretending to study the words in front of him. _'I'm not stupid! I know that you can read all of that in less than 10 seconds.'_

Emily nods as everyone else takes a spot at the round table. I like to think that all the agents are the Knights of the Round Table. Ready to go out and fight with valor and courage. But, I have my wild imagination. Make connections in the strangest ways.

JJ speaks: "Third case this week, I know, guys." She says as she observes all the tired faces. Frazzled hair (save for Morgan), dark circles, coffee cups in hand (no decaf present). "But this one's the last as far as I know." A few sighs are let out, but the room is silent otherwise. "Nancy Diaz, Georgia Peterson, and Lacey Swift. All live in Estacada, Oregon; middle to upper class; stabbed repeatedly." JJ clicks the remote several times as the pictures of the women and a map appear on the screen.

"What makes this different? Why were we called out on this one? Seems like a typical serial murder. Local police should be able to handle it." Spencer questions after he takes a few seconds (literally) to read the entire case file. _'Knew it.'_ Pictures of the women's dead bodies appear suddenly on the screen. They are all sitting straight up, eyes wide open.

"Rigor?" Morgan offers. That's the only reason I can come up with. How else do you find a dead body like this?

"That's what everybody thought." Hotch took over. "But after the autopsy, the coroner discovered that the bodies had already been through rigor mortis. The bodies were positioned like this after death." He motioned to the T.V.

"So how long does the unsub keep his victims after death for this to happen?" Emily sips her coffee as she asks. She looks the least tired of everyone. I need to find out what kind of concealer she's using to cover up the dark circles. Mental sticky-note.

"Rigor mortis usually sets in three hours after time of death, reaches its maximum at twelve hours, and then slowly declines from then until approximately 72 hours after death. Then the body begins to decompose from there." Spencer offers his input of random information so that everything fits together in one's mind. As always.

"Reid's right. The unsub keeps them for at least twelve hours after he's killed them." Hotch makes Reid's words understandable for all of us normal people. "We leave in five." He collects all the papers and heads out the door, everyone trailing behind. I stay behind and turn off the television and pick up any abandoned coffee cups. Usually someone would complain about what I'm doing as an intern. About how they're not really helping in the investigation. But I'm okay with it. I offer to do it. It keeps my mind off of... well, everything.

Everyone chats as we board the plane. I mean jet. Whatever. I'm silent; I don't have anything to say to anyone (except Reid). I take my seat on the couch, not stretching out like I usually would. Even though I'm tired, I decide to sit up so I can focus. It probably still won't work. Morgan starts the breifing without announcement. "He bounds and gags these victims. He obviously doesn't think he can handle them on his own without restraints." The manilla folder claps as it lands on the table in front of him.

"He's probably small, weak. Maybe around 5' 5". Below average height." Hotch adds.

"Were there any signs of rape?" Emily asks, still studying the rest of the papers, again sipping her coffee.

"Yes. They also found drugs in all the girls' systems. Used for sedation." JJ offers.

"So all he wants to do is dominate. Typical." Emily earns a smile from JJ and I. I couldn't help it; it was true.

"Anyway," Hotch with his stern face again speaks, "the thing is... He makes their children watch." Everyone exchanges glances with downcast eyes. We all hate cases like this. "All of these women are either single or married, but have at least two children."

"Son of a-" Morgan starts, but trails off. Is it me, or is he glancing at me a lot? What? Did I do something to offend him, too?

"We'll be there in about an hour. I know everyone didn't get sleep last night." JJ half-smiles as she implicates we all needed sleep. She wanders back towards our "kitchen" to make more coffee. The smell fills the cabin, and I lean my head back and close my eyes, intoxicated. I take a deep breathe. Never said coffee smelled bad. I stay like this until I notice someone sit beside me. I peek out of my right eye. It's Morgan. I sigh, open my eyes, and sit up straight, facing him. "Yes?"

"What's up, kid?" He smiles. I narrow my eyes. He only calls Spencer "kid".

"Us." I'm such a smart-aleck.

"Funny." He chuckles. "But seriously, are you okay?" His eyebrow arches.

"Yeah. I'm fine. Why would-" SHOOT. Rewind. I only told Hotch that I was Gideon's daughter. To everyone else on the team I'm just Shay Noel. If I would have told them, they would've thought that I got into this internship just because I'm his daughter. I didn't lie about having a brother, but the rest of my life to them _is_ a lie. "Um... Oh. Yeah. I'm okay." I try to sound a little sad. This is how I keep up appearances. Acting skillz.

"Alright, then. Try to get some sleep." Morgan pats my shoulder before going back to his chair and putting on his headphones. I take his advice and lie down on the couch. I lay face up, hands crossed behind my head. My eyes seem to shut on their own - I'm beyond tired. I turn on my side to get more comfortable. I feel something lightly flutter over me, it's soft and warm. A blanket. I don't open my eyes to see who it is, but as they walk past me I smell something that replaces the aroma of the coffee. Okay, so either this person seriously eats a lot of candy, or I'm just really weird. It's sweet, like when you walk into a donut shop, but strong and slightly bitter, like dark chocolate. I let this scent wrap around me before it disappears. I smile before I'm forced to fall asleep into a nightmare.

_Same setting. Same dark road. Same silence. Same lonliness. Same eyes. Same monsters that want to devour me. Closer, they're getting closer. Too close. My back hits a tree. Dead end. Literally. The monsters are coming. Their bright yellow eyes full of lust for blood. They get nearer, nearer, nearer..._

"Hey, wake up!" I'm rudely welcomed back to reality by a smack in the head. Morgan.

"Sorry," I sit up slowly, rubbing the back of my head, glaring daggers at the tall, muscular man that is laughing at me. "Are we there?" I throw the blanket off of me. It smells like the person who gave it to me. I grab it again and pull it to my chest, burying my face in it. It's oddly comforting.

"We will be in about 20 minutes." JJ sits beside me, eyeing the blanket I was holding.

I pull it closer. "Okay..." I'm a little annoyed that I lost 20 minutes of sleep, but very thankful that my nightmare didn't continue. I've never seen how it ends, and I don't think I would like to.

**~Reid's POV~**

Shay holds the brown and red plaid blanket to her chest, resting her head on her knees. She gently rubs her emerald eyes. Locks of blonde and brown fall on her shoulders and seem to melt in with the blanket. "When we arrive, I need Reid and Shay to stay behind at the police station," I realize Hotch is speaking and focus on him. He looks at me. "We need to get started right away on a geographical profile, but first we have to figure out where the victims live." Everyone nods. "I'll get Garcia on the phone. Shay, talk to her and write everything down."

"'Kay." She reluctantly let the blanket fall from her fingers and trots over to Hotch and holds the phone in her small hands, short fingernails painted with a dark purple. "Wassup, my homie?" She answers.

"Nothin' much, sugar pie." I can hear Garcia on the other end. They always have unusual nick names for eachother. I think it makes Morgan jealous. "What'cha need?" I hear Shay's fingers tap away on the table in front of her. This is one of her everyday habits.

"I need addresses and neighborhood division names for Nancy Diaz, Georgia Peterson, and Lacey Swift. Please and thank you." She runs her hand through her hair, and it somehow falls back into place perfectly. A piece of paper disappears from my notebook in front of me, and there is a hand in the pocket of my shirt. I jump slightly. Shay doens't look up from her paper, just clicks the pen and begins writing down addresses. Her writing is neat, I notice.

She sees me staring at the paper and looks at me. I tear myself away from my thoughts and offer a mousy apology. She rolls her eyes and gets up from her seat to give the paper to Hotch. I sigh and take my seat before the table, staring out the window at all the clouds.

"Something wrong?" Morgan takes his place in front of me.

_'I don't know. _Is _something wrong? _Am_ I okay?'_ Before I can answer, I hear my name.

"Reid, catch!" I see the pen leave Shay's hand and hurtle towards me. I fumble with my hands, attempting to catch it. It ends up in my lap.

Morgan laughs. "I don't think we'll ever get used to her."

I let a puff of air, exasperated. "Yeah..." I concentrate on getting the pen straight in my pocket.

"So, you okay, kid?" Morgan shifts in his chair, his chin in his hand.

"Did you know two-thirds of people say that they fall in love with someone they've known for some time as compared to someone that they just met?" I blurted out.

Morgan laughs. Loudly. "What does love have to do with this?" He punches my arm jokingly.

"Well, you are talking to me. What should it be about?" I smile. I think.

He laughs again. "Okay, fine, you got me there." Our conversation would have continued, but the jet landed and everyone was filing out. I jump up and grab my bag, swiftly exiting the cabin behind everyone.

**~Shay's POV~**

As Hotch had ordered, Spencer and I are stuck in the police station, awaiting any commands. Emily and Morgan are going to the crime scenes, Hotch and Rossi are at the victim's homes, and JJ is setting up a press conference. The room isn't silent; the sound of ringing phones, people constantly getting up and down, and men talking about different things fills the void air. But it is painfully awkward. A phone call saves me.

Spencer's phone buzzes on the table three times before he gets to it. He picks up. "Yeah?" I can't hear anything, and I can't tell who it is. He pretty much speaks the same way to everyone. "Hotch wants us to talk to the children of the victims." Spencer has an almost sick look on his face. He doesn't look at me as he speaks. Jerk.

I don't say anything. I don't know what to say. I walk out of the room reserved for the BAU and over to the families. They sigh in relief when I walk over. "Have you found out anything yet?" One of the fathers holds his five year old daughter in his arms. He looks up at me. Before I answer, he continues, "Aren't you a little young to be working in the FBI? How old are you?" He scans me up and down. My red t-shirt with a rose on it, black basketball shorts, red converse with black laces and all. What can I say? I dressed comfortably for a jet ride.

"Um, I'm 19, sir. I'm an intern." I try to smile at him, but I find this hard.

He looks warily at me. He's suspicious. All of the other parents give me the same look. I try to ignore it. "Have you made any progress?" He bounces the little girl on his knee.

"Actually, Mr. Peterson," I'm not a people person. I start to stutter.

"I don't want an actually. My son and daughter don't have a mother now! The police can't do anything, and now the FBI can't?" He set his little girl down and stood to his feet with anger.

"Um, I'm sorry, sir, but-" I try to be polite. If I didn't work for the FBI, and people hadn't been murdered, I would blow up in his face.

"Other agents are investigating the crime scenes and your home for anything that can help us." Spencer appears beside me, slightly in front. My hero. Yeah right. But, I am thankful. Mr. Peterson sits down, once again propping his daughter on his knee. "We have something else that could help us, but we do need permission from you first." Spencer motioned towards the little girl. If I remember right, her name is Hannah. Mr. Peterson gives an almost horrified look.

"You want her to re-live this?"

"Well, not exactly, but yes. It may help us find the person who did this." Spencer sticks his hands in his front pockets and rocks back and forth on his heels. He does that when he's nervous. "If you're not sure... You can ask your daughter yourself."

Mr. Peterson looks from his daughter to us. From us to his daughter. Then he sighs. "Okay." He places Hannah in front of him, facing him. "Hannah, can you go talk to these people?"

Hannah looks at us, especially me. She whispers to her dad: "I only want to talk to that lady." as she points to me. It makes me feel kind of good. I smile.

"I'm Shay. You're Hannah, right?" She nods, her pigtails bouncing. "Do you like puzzles?" She nods again. Wow. A kid that likes puzzles. That's different. "Well there's a puzzle in that room over there that's one of my favorites, but it's really hard. Can you help me with it?" I bend down and hold out my hand. Her face brightens, and she grabs my hand and almost runs to the conference room. I trot off beside her, closing the door behind me.

I get her started on the right side of the puzzle, then go peek out the window behind the blinds. Spencer is awkwardly trying to talk to a little boy. Mr. Diaz's son I think. I laugh slightly, then catch myself. I'm supposed to be mad at him. Darn it.

"Shay," Hannah calls me. "Who was that man that was with you?" She holds a puzzle piece of half of a heart in her hands. Oh, the innocence of children.

"His name is Spencer Reid. He's a doctor." I sit on the floor next to her, picking up the other half of the heart, and hand it to her to piece together.

She looks at me with a confused face. "Why isn't he in the hozpidal?" Ha. Kids are so cute.

"He's a different kind of doctor." I don't think she gets it, but she nods anyway and continues on the puzzle. This is fun, but I have to ask her. "Hannah..." She looks at me with big blue eyes and her blonde hair falls in her face. "The last time you saw your mommy, did you see the man that hurt her?" Hannah stops handling the jigsaw piece in her hand and looks at her lap. She nods. "Can you remember what he looks like?"

She looks at me again with watery eyes. "Every time I close my eyes," she hiccups, "I see him." My heart starts to hurt. I don't want her to have to think about this. I don't want to make her re-live everything. "He's scary..." She whispers as a tear runs down her flawless white skin.

"I know... I know he's scary." I rub her back gently. "But can you tell me why he was scary?"

She doesn't say anything; just nods and wipes her eyes with her long sleeves. "He... He had on a mask."

"What kind of mask? Was it black?" I lean towards her.

This time she shakes her head, and her pigtails whip around. "No. You could see his face, but... It was..." She furrowed her brow, looking for the right word.

"Different?" She looked at me and nodded vigorously. "Thanks Hannah." I smiled at her. "You've helped a lot. You can finish the puzzle if you want to. I'm going to go talk to Dr. Spencer." Hannah smiled and picked up the piece she has been eyeing for a while and stuck it in it's place. It completed the heart.

I walk over to Spencer, who is sitting at an empty desk alone. He doesn't look exactly happy. "So did the kid tell you anything?" He twirls his fingers and doesn't answer. Doesn't look at me. Well there's something new. NOT. "Well Hannah told me that the unsub was 'scary'. He wears a mask." Spencer finally looked at me.

"Like a ski mask?" He asked, puzzled.

"Nope. She said it was clear; she could see his face through it, but it was deformed." I sat on the desk, swinging my legs back and forth.

"The unsub probably has a deformity of some kind, like a burn or scar. He doesn't want anyone to see it, so he makes his whole faces look deformed." He re-stated what was already going through my mind.

Morgan, Prentiss, Hotch, and Rossi come in the station and over to the desk where Spencer and I are. "You guys get anything?" Rossi asks, taking a seat across from us.

"Yeah, my new friend Hannah," I gesture to the conference room. "told me that our unsub wears a clear mask that makes his face look different, almost disfigured." I tousled my hair a little. It has to look pretty bad.

"So he has a deformity that he wants to hide." Morgan spoke up.

"Like a scar or burn." Emily added.

I nodded. Hotch presses a button on the reciever, alerting Garcia. "Garcia, I need single white males that live in the vicinity of 40 miles of Portland. He'll have some sort of medical history; he has some sort of scar or burn on his face."

"Aye, aye, captain." I can imagine Garcia saluting as she begins to click away on her keyboard.

"All we can do is wait." Rossi announces before leaving once again to update the families.

I look at JJ. She just shrugs.

I stand as Vince Clarkson is pulled through the station, all eyes on him. Everyone watches. The insane man who killed three woman, attempted at a fourth. Of course I wasn't there when they apprehended him, but that doesn't matter. My child social skills were pretty awesome, if I must say.

Hannah runs up to me and hugs my legs after Vince disappears behind a door. I ruffle her hair and grin. She looks up at me, still hugging me, and smiles ear to ear. "Told you." I held up my hands in a gesture that said "I knew it." She giggled like the little five-year-old girl she was and squeezed my legs one more time before letting go.

Just then, Morgan walked in, greeting Hannah. "So _you're_ Hannah." They both smiled. "I hear that you helped us a lot. We couldn't have done it without you, you know." She gave him a high-five. Her hand is about twenty times smaller than his. Everyone else came in shortly. Hannah's dad swooped her up and she giggled again. "Hi Spencer!" She grinned widely while waving at Spencer as he walked in. He looked surprised, but waved slightly with a ghost of a smile.

Hannah's dad looked at her with a questioning face. "Who's that, sweetie?"

"That's Miss Shay's boyfriend!" She exclaimed.

Everyone exploded into laughter. I even saw Hotch laughing. But it wasn't funny! "Hannah! I never told you that he was my boyfriend!" I could feel my face turning red. I stole a glance at Spencer. I could see Morgan taunting him, but he just kept writing. Obviously embarrassed.

Hannah tilted her head to the side. "But you guys acted like it." My face flushed. _'Do we really act like a couple? Yeah, maybe a married old couple that bickers all the time.'_

"It's okay, Shay. We don't believe her." JJ winked at me. I just glared.

I could hear Morgan across the room. "Come on, kid, why didn't you just tell us?" He teased, patting Spencer's back. Spencer swatted his hand away.

Hannah laughed with everyone else. I hope she always stays this happy.

Bad guy caught. Back on the jet. Mission accomplished. When we boarded, the candy-and-donut-smelling blanket was still there, in a heap where I left it. I dashed towards it, grabbed it, and plopped down into one of the chairs that has another, identical one beside it, missing an armrest.

Emily took the seats behind me, stretching out, with JJ across from her. Hotch took a single seat, spreading out paperwork on his desk. Rossi sat across from him. Morgan took over the couch with a pillow and his own throw blanket. Only seat left: beside me. My luck sucks. "Ughh," I fell against the back of the seat, studying the ceiling.

"Can I have my blanket back?" I hear his quiet voice as he sat beside me. I look beside me and am met with dark brown eyes. The smell of donuts and dark chocolate once again surrounds me. _'It was him...'_ Why did it have to be him?

I pulled the blanket towards me in a protective manner. "Then why'd you give it to me in the first place?" I raised an eyebrow at him.

"Well, you were sleeping and didn't have a blanket, so I, I figured-" He talked extremely fast, actually trying to explain why I had the blanket I was holding now. I laughed. He stopped talking, confused.

"Rhetorical question, Dr. Reid." I smirked at him as his face relaxed, almost into a smile.

"Did you know the definition-"

"Don't care." I threw the blanket on top of his head, laughing to myself. He pulled it off, his hair a disheveled mess. He blew a clump of distraught hair out of his face. I started to giggle like Hannah had. When I stopped laughing, there was silence. Complete and utter silence. I looked down at my hands in my lap. "What did I do wrong?" I peeked up to see his reaction.

His face was blank, but he stared at me. "You didn't do anything wrong." Spencer looked at his hands, then me, then his hands again.

"What?" I looked at him in disbelief. "Of course-" My voice was loud. "Of course I did." There. Better. "Otherwise, you wouldn't have snapped at me. Obviously there's something wrong. With me." I stared back at him.

"No... I just, it was a bad day, and you were the first person to talk to me." He looked embarrassed again, but for a different reason. "Sorry." He muttered the apology, but I heard it.

"Alright, fine." I smiled before snatching back the sweet-smelling blanket. From then, all I remember is that I _didn't_ have a nightmare for once, but a dream that was sweet.

**Next Morning, BAU**

I walk in, six coffee cups and a Sprite in hand. Seconds later, there are seven stains on the carpet. Instead of a dead body, there is a picture of Spencer and I sleeping on the jet, my head on his shoulder. THAT WASN'T MY FAULT. I FELL OVER.

"Morgaaaannnn!"


	2. Chapter 2

_Recap:_

_I walk in, six coffee cups and a Sprite in hand. Seconds later, there are seven stains on the carpet. Instead of a dead body, there is a picture of Spencer and I sleeping on the jet, my head on his shoulder. THAT WASN'T MY FAULT. I FELL OVER. _

_ "Morgaaaannnn!"_

The "silence" of phones ringing, people relaying messages, and cars out on the street pounds on my head like a mallet. I close my eyes and take a deep breathe. I exhale dramatically out of my mouth. This stupid migrane refuses to go away. And being in an office of a government building does not help. I lean forward on the desk with my elbows, rubbing my temples. I don't even know why I had to come to work today. Hotch and JJ have the paperwork covered, and there's not a case. No one else on the team is here yet. Plus I'm the intern. Of all people, why do I have to come in? Not to mention it's _Christmas Eve_.

Just as these thoughts cross my mind, my oh so favorite person just happens to walk through the door. Derek Morgan. I glare across the long stretch of frantic people and phones crying for people to pick them up. I still haven't forgiven him.

_Flashback:_

_ The picture of Spencer and I on the jet hangs on the wall, in all of it's... well you can't call it glory. My mouth hangs open in disbelief. I know who it is right away. I yell for Morgan, quieting the whole BAU for, oh, about a millisecond. I guess this happens often, so everyone's used to it. _

_ He walks over, a big stupid grin on his face. I glare more. More. MORE. I'm surprised he doesn't have two giant holes burnt through his chest. "Woah, woah, woah," He holds up his hands in defense. I think I should burn holes in those too. "don't get all worked up over something like this. No one pays attention to this board anyway." He's still smiling as he gestures to the board. _

_ "Yes they do! This is the freaking bulletin board, for God's sakes! _Everyone_ looks at this board!" I frown. I hope he notices._

_ "Alright, fine." Morgan chuckles. I sware, if he weren't three times my size, I'd beat him up. _

_ I tear the paper off of the corkboard angrily, not forgetting to smack Morgan while I stomp away furiously. I hurt my hand._

_End Flashback_

Morgan walks up to where I'm at at an abandoned desk where the recently fired secretary used to reside. Turns out she was having an affair with the guy who runs the copier. How scandalous (hint the sarcasm).

He has his own coffee. I wasn't responsible for any coffee today, not knowing that I was coming in until 4 A.M. this morning when I was rudely awakened by Hotch. But it was Hotch; I couldn't exactly be rude. Morgan ruffles my already hideous hair as he walks past. "Hey kid. You're coffee's much better." He flashes a smile and winks. I can't help but smile too. _'Stupid Morgan...'_

He strolls into Hotch's office. I have a feeling he won't be out for a while... They had a meeting scheduled about who knows what. JJ is locked up in her office, and Garcia in her "lair". Emily's at a wedding somewhere, while Rossi decided to take this Christmas off. Spencer is the only other one who might come in. IRONY SUCKS. Enough said.

On cue, Spencer wanders in, almost like a lost puppy. At least, I think it's him. I can't tell an elephant from a house with my headache right now. The person who is thought to be (and ends up being) Spencer walks up to the empty desk. "Um." He clears his throat. "Do you know why we're here?" He has his hands in his front pockets, and looks around for someone else that could answer his question. Typical.

"Nope." I say in a cold tone. It even sounded mean to my own ears.

"Oh," He stops looking around. "So..." He begins to subtly move his lips, like he has something else to say, but he can't.

I thump my head down on the desk on top of my crossed arms. _'Well, that didn't help anything...'_ "Ow..." I mutter. I peek up to steal a glance at Spencer. "Look, if you don't want to talk to me, you can talk to someone else. JJ is in her office, and Garcia in her 'den', so you can-"

"No, it's not that." He interrupts me abruptly, but looks over my head. "What were Hotch and Morgan supposed to talk about...?" He still stares above me, tilting his head to see into Hotch's office.

"I don't know. Why?" I want to stand up and see what he is seeing, but my head is killing me.

"They seem pretty angry with eachother..." He draws out his last word longer than the others. He always has that tone of voice when he's really confused. "I wonder what happened." He looks at me now.

"Dunno... Probably something little." Just as I say this, Morgan bursts out of the door, obviously upset. He snatches his jacket from a lone chair and heads for the door in a rage. "Or not..."

Spencer runs up to him in his awakard speed-walk to stop him. I see him say something, but I can't tell what it is. Morgan sighs and rubs his forehead like he's frustrated, then begins speaking also. Still can't figure out what they're saying. Finally, Spencer comes back. I give a questioning look. "Morgan said that Hotch needed him to do something when Morgan had apparently told him that he had something else planned..." He makes a face, almost worried as he watches Morgan leave.

"Guess it was important." I shrug, knowing that it wasn't really a big deal. It was just Morgan being Morgan.

"Oh, he also said that Hotch wanted _us_ to do it now."

"What?" I sit up straight now.

"Yeah..." He draws out this word, too. "We have to run some errands." He shrugs, his hands still in his pockets.

"Like what...?" I dread the answer.

**Time Skip**

The car ride is awkward. About as awkward as it can get. I mean, majorly awkward. Oh, did I mention it was awkward? To make matters worse, Spencer is a horrible, paranoid driver. Whilst trying to look calm, he makes himself look like an idiot.

I offer to drive.

"N-no, I'm fine. I'm just not used to driving in so much, um, traffic." He swallows down all of his nervousness.

I shrug and continue to look out the window, my chin propped on my hand. I wince as we run over a pothole. The blood in my head pulses against my brain. I shut my eyes. _'Focus... Focus on something.'_ I tell myself, but the only thing I can focus on is how ridiculous Spencer looks while he's driving. If I really think about it, he's the only thing I've been focusing on lately.

It's annoying.

Finally, we pull into a parking lot. We were supposed to go pick up lunch for a few people back at the office first. What a joy.

We hop out of the car after Spencer jerks the keys out of the ignition. I'm driving back.

It's about fifteen degrees outside. "I hope everyone likes frozen sandwiches." I say before lifting my scarf to cover my chapped lips. I shove my hands in my pockets; I can't believe I forgot my gloves. Spencer walks with his hands in his pockets on the oversized flanel coat he's wearing. And, of course, his plaid scarf that he's had with him since October is wrapped around his neck. He looks around like he's never been to a fast food restraunt. Well, he probably hasn't. So nevermind that. The restraunt doubles as a café on the other side. I long for a cup of hot chocolate topped with mini-marshmallows, but, alas, I'm stuck with a socially awkward genius trying to order off of a McDonald's menu for what just may be the first time in his life.

I sigh and shuffle over to the counter and take over the order. I think the lady got annoyed since all he could do was stammer. She is a large woman, her auburn hair sloppily pulled back into a bun, frayed hairs everywhere. Her tacky McDonald's shirt is stained with grease and what is _hopefully_ barbecue sauce. Her name is Martha, according the the lopsided nametag that is littered with old and worn smiley face stickers in an aray of colors, but they no longer have their smile. They are just faceless circles with a tint of color. Sounds like real people.

We wait for about five minutes for all the food to be ready, and head over to the café side of the restraunt. I stare at the menu as we walk by. I think Spencer notices because he starts speaking to me. It takes this a few minutes to register in my head.

"Oh, sorry, what did you say?" I shake my head to rid it of all other thoughts.

He clears his throat. "I suggested we could, um, just put the food in the car and maybe get a coffee or something. The food will stay good, and we can just use the microwaves back at the office."

Well, geez. That's the most he's said to me at one time in about a month. "Um, yeah, sure... I guess." It hurts to talk with my cracking and chapped lips. I'm tempted to pull the dead skin off, but decide against it when I think about the hot chocolate I will get in a few moments. But of course I left my chapstick at home. Only me.

Spencer runs- well, kind of- out to the company SUV and throws all of the food in the front passenger seat. I somewhat laugh as I watch him try to thaw out his hands when he comes back in, the bell on the door jingling when it opens. He takes a seat in a booth far from the door to avoid a draft. I order a hot chocolate for myself and a regular coffee for Spencer. Decaf. He puts a mountain of sugar in his coffee anyway, and he doesn't need any more caffeine than what's in a decaf.

I sit across from Spencer and shed my coat and scarf. If I started to drink my hot chocolate right now, I would burn my tounge like I always do and it wouldn't help my chapped lips.

"Uh, hey..." I get Spencer's attention. He looks up from a newspaper. "Do you have any chapstick?" I avoid his gaze, but I see his eyes flicker over the condition of my lips, and I can feel my face heat up. It's embarrassing for some reason...

"Yeah, let me check." He stretches out his legs so he can reach into his left pocket of his jeans. He grabs the chapstick and holds it in front of him while examining the label. "Oh, it's just this kind; it doesn't really-"

Before he can say anything else, I snatch it from his hands and I pop the cap off with my semi-numb fingers. I'm careful not to use too much so I'm not rude, but mainly because it's the original kind with no flavor. You know, the kind that tastes like vaseline. As I rub my lips together, I feel weird and awkward, almost self-conscious. "Here." I hold my hand out.

Spencer grabs it, shaking, probably from the cold. **((A/N: Ahahaha you naive girl))** He swallows harshly and musters up a "You're welcome."

I nod. Finally, I can drink my long-awaited hot chocolate. I hold the cup firm in my hands so my fingers thaw out while I sip on the warm liquid. The "warmth" burns my tongue. I flinch suddenly, making a face. I hear Spencer laugh. I look up and glare at him slightly, but smirk at the same time. "Like you've never burnt your tongue before."

He smiles. "Actually, I can say I have not. Most people are impatient and can't wait on their drink to cool down, but I have the patience that others don't."

"Whatever, Mr. Perfect." I roll my eyes at him. Though it's almost true, I know that even Spencer isn't perfect.

There is another awkward silence between us. Or maybe it's just me. I don't have a newspaper that I'm reading. No cellphone to distract myself with. I decide to people watch.

There is a tall man in a long overcoat ordering at the counter. He has broad shoulders and a hat covering what's probably a bald spot. He could be Sherlock Holmes if he had a magnifying glass in his hand. The girl taking his order is different from the disheveled older woman who took mine. She looks younger, probably in college. She's peppy; too happy to be working at McDonalds. I shrug to myself.

My eyes wander over Spencer's head when the bell on the door jingles again. I see... The secretary that was just fired?

I unconciously duck to hide. _'Why did I do that? She probably doesn't even remember who I am!'_

Spencer looks at me strangely. "What is it?" He raises an eyebrow before turning to look at what I was hiding from.

"N-nothing!" I try to distract him. "Just thought I saw someone I knew."

"Oh..." I can tell he doesn't completely believe me by the look he's giving me.

I divert my attention to the puzzle on the back of the newspaper that he's taking an unusually long amount of time to read. "Yeah, so, um..." I glance at the secretary. _'Now that I think about it, I never found out who told about her...'_ "Oh, you know that lady that was just let go at the office?" I talk in a hushed tone.

"Yeah, you mean the secretary?"

I wince at his situationally loud voice, but nod. "Who ended up telling?"

"Um... Actually, i-it was-"

"SPENCER REID!" A voice screams, with a killing intent. Rage.

I think I know who it is, but I look up anyway. Yep. Secretary. She storms over in her black business suit, high heels clacking against the stained and sticky restraunt floor.

She grabs Spencer by his sleeve and begins to drag him out the door. The newspaper floats to the floor, and the coffee spills on the laminent wood table.

I look back and forth between Spencer and the table before my feet begin to move themself towards the door to Spencer. Right as I get out the door, I see the secretary hit Spencer over the head with her abnormally large purse.

"Hey!" I yell while rushing over to the scene.

"Go away! This has nothing to do with you!" She doesn't even look at me before smacking him across the cheek with her bare hand.

Spencer is now on the ground, having slipped on a patch of ice. She stands directly over him, threatening to take another blow at him with her suitcase of a purse.

"Stop it! What are you doing?" I'm standing but a foot from the two. I don't know whether to attempt to apprehend her, but I think that option will have to wait until later.

"It's his fault!"

"What? What did he do?" I already know the answer, but if I can prolong another hit, it would be better.

"You know! Everyone knows!" She's breathing heavily, clouds steaming from her mouth.

"No, no I don't! No one knows!" I inch closer with every word.

She raises the bag and swings it so it hits Spencer square in the stomach.

I wince.

"Stop it!" I try to run forward, but slip on the same small piece of ice frozen on the sidewalk. I end up directly in front of Spencer on the cold concrete, on my knees. I regain balance and throw my arms out to both sides, trying to shield him. "He didn't do anything wrong! And even if he did, this is NOT the way to solve a problem! You can't just-"

"You're getting in the way!"

I brace myself for a blow to my own head, but what comes is only a slight jolt of my body. I open my eyes and suddenly feel warm. Spencer is on his knees also, one arm around my waist and the other protectively around my shoulders. I can feel his hair brush on my cheeks before it falls away with the rest of his body onto a cold, gray, unforgiving ground.

"Spencer!" I forget all about the psycho lady that just attacked him and move myself over his body.

I roll Spencer face up. "Hey! Answer me!" I lightly pat the side of his cheek. Nothing. A feeling wells up in me, and it's not a good feeling. My heart speeds up, and I feel like it might burst. Fear floods over my body. _'What if she hit him enough to cause a concussion? What if I can't get him help? What if the cold causes something? What if...'_ The next thought threatens. I don't let it enter my head. There's no way. I won't let it happen. It can't be _that_ serious, right? Right?

At another attempt to get a response from him, I shake him lightly. I know you aren't supposed to, but I can't think of anything else. "Come on! Please!" My voice begins to crack.

I turn to the secretary, still standing behind us, looking on in, at first, satisfaction of her work, but now she is worried. "I hate you!" I scream, as if this was a personal matter, like I was involved somehow in the whole thing.

I tear my gaze from her and focus on Spencer again. I can hear the sound of the retreating secretary. Now I'm the one breathing heavily. What can I do? He can't just...

My terrible thoughts cease when I see Spencer's long eyelashes flutter open. He rolls to one side while holding his stomach. I let out a breath I didn't know I had been holding. A sigh of relief.

I help him sit up, still on my knees in front of him. He's now holding both his stomach and head. There is a bright red handprint on his left cheek, along with light fingernail scratches. My distaste for that woman comes back momentarily, but I have to keep my attention on the beaten man in front of me.

"I guess I shouldn't ask if you're okay." I smile half-way and laugh a little.

I can see him smile, too. He shakes his head slowly.

"Um," I look up around us. We didn't attract too much attention. Maybe a passing car, but the restraunt was pretty deserted. "we should get you in the car." I grab his arm, taking it away from his stomach. I feel bad.

We both limp over to the SUV while I try to not think about how ridiculous we look. I open the passenger door and carelessly toss the food in the back seat. Doesn't really matter now.

Spencer flops down in the seat sideways, then adjusts himself accordingly, trying to be as comfortable as possible (which as you can imagine isn't very comfortable at all).

I sigh as I close the door and hobble over to the other side of the vehicle. I have trouble opening the car door because of my numb fingers. I finally manage to open the sleek black door now frosted with ice, then hop up into the seat. The seat is far away from the steering wheel and pedals. Just shows how short I am.

I take the keys from Spencer's shaking hands and our fingers touch for a moment. Though mine are numb, a sensation still courses through me.

The car engine ignites, and I reach down to adjust the seat. I turn the heat on full blast and we just sit in silence for a few minutes, letting the hot air blow on our faces. I lean my head back against the headrest and let out a sigh. What a way to spend your Christmas Eve.

I decide to start a conversation. "So... Shall we head home?" I turn without lifting my head to find Spencer sleeping. Of all things, _sleeping_._ 'Well. I'll take that as a yes.'_

I reach into my pocket and turn my cell off, then reach in the center console to find Spencer's before clicking it off. There. No disturbances. Our excuse will be no service.

Sitting up, I put the car in reverse and begin on the journey to Spencer's apartment (for safety reasons, we all know where eachother live; if you ask me, it's disturbing).

**Time Skip**

When we arrive at his apartment, I take the key out of the ignition, and immediately hear a wide aray of noises: dogs barking, police sirens, the wind blowing dead leaves on the concrete. I sit in the chaos of it all, taking it in.

"Hey," I hit Spencer lightly on the arm. "We're here."

"I was awake."

"Oh. Sorry." My seatbelt clicks, and I push it behind me.

"This isn't the BAU." He ignores my apology as he sits up and unbuckles his own seatbelt while tucking his long shaggy hair behind his ears.

"I know. I figured you needed some down time after... you know, being beaten." I smile, but it is not returned. I clear my throat. "I should disinfect those scratches, anyway."

He shrugs before leaning against the door to open it.

_'Why is he acting so weird? I mean, sure, he just got hammered with a lady's purse, but... He can usually laugh stuff like this off.'_ I try to ignore his odd behavior as I trot up beside him. Deciding to not aid him in walking because of the atmosphere, I get ahead of Spencer (I got the keys earlier) to unlock the door. He's on the first floor, which is good, because elevators... Well, let's just say they aren't my strong point.

I've never been in his place before, so I take in all the sights when I enter, though there aren't many. Everything is gray and/or white. Which I guess is modern, but a little color wouldn't hurt anything. The apartment is two rooms, I guess. The kitchen, a small dining room, and the living room are all connected and there's a door on the wall where the T.V. set is. I assume it's a bedroom.

"You can, uh, just throw your stuff wherever." I whirl around at the sound of his voice.

I follow suit when he tosses his coat and scarf on a chair beside the small dining table. Naturally, I'm a little uncomfortable, and cautious to sit anywhere, so I just ask where the First-Aid stuff is.

"Above the sink in the cabinet. But I can get-"

"Sit." I order him to sit on the couch. "Don't try to act all cool like you don't need help. Plus, I kinda just brought myself over here, so I'll do everything."

I stand on my very tip-toes to reach the band-aids and disinfectant in the cupboard. I set everything on the counter and start to sort through it. Out of curiousity, I glance over my shoulder into the living room. Spencer obediently sat on the couch, and I see him already making himself comfortable with a game of chess. _'What a nerd.'_ I can't help but smile to myself.

When I finally have everything I need, I walk over to the couch where Spencer is sitting, playing his game of chess on the black, wooden coffee table in front of him. I slide the chess board to the side, knocking over some of the pieces in the process. "Whoops." I look up at him from under my bangs.

"It's fine." He shoots the board a look. "I remember where they were." He looks at me now.

I clear my throat. "Oh, that's right..." There's a long pause. "Okay, let me see your face."_ 'Well that sounds normal.'_ I mentally smack myself for being so nervous.

All of the supplies clatter down on the table. I reach for a cottonball and the disinfectant before dabbing some of the liquid on the little fluffy cloud. Just as I'm about to dab the "cloud" on the scratch marks on Spencer's face, I see that he's distracted by something across the room. I sigh.

"Over here." I wave a hand in front of his face.

He snaps his full attention to me now as I put on an impatient face. "Sorry." His eyes dart back and forth, always avoiding my gaze.

_'Geez...'_ I roll my eyes before beginning to gently wipe the cottonball over the light but very red scratches. I grind my teeth together just imagining the sting, and I see Spencer doing the same. _'Is that dirt?'_ I lean closer to try and see if I'm just imagining things, or if there really is black specks inside the minute cuts. My eyes are almost slits now, and I'm biting on my lower lip. My concentration face. I get it from my dad, and I hate it, always have.

After I'm done examining the scratches, I realize how close I've gotten to Spencer's face. My cheeks burn, and I immediately pull back.

I clear my throat again, as if it makes the situation less awkward. "Uh, here's a band-aid." I hand him a large band-aid before retreating to the kitchen to put everything away.

**Spencer's POV**

_'I don't know how much more I can take this. I've already had to hug her, lean on her, and she was just that close to my face. This is the first time I've ever been that close (literally and figuratively) to a girl since... Lila.' _My forehead creases as memories rush back. I shake my head; I can't be thinking about such things right now. I peek over my shoulder at Shay, but all she's doing is washing her hands. _'What should I do? I still have to...' _I try to stop thinking about it, but know I have to keep my obligations.

_Flashback (BAU jet): _

_ "Come on, man, just one game." Morgan smirks from his seat across from me. _

_ "I just don't think it's fair for you to play me." I can't help but smile; he knows that everyone always loses card games against me._

_ "Oh, really?" He cocks an eyebrow. This shows that his pride has been challenged. He won't back down now. "How about this, Mr. Know-It-All? If I win, you have to ask Shay out on a date." Morgan smiles slyly at this. I lean over in the aisle to look at Shay who's quietly sleeping on the couch. I look at Morgan again. He's still got a grin on his face._

_ "Okay..." I say this reluctantly. "But if I win, you can't go on a date for a whole month." It's now my turn to smirk. _

_ "Alright, kid. You're on."_

_ End Flashback_

Somehow, astronomically, I lost. Morgan probably cheated. l did go get coffee that one time... Either way, I have to keep to my promise now.

Shay non-chalantly walks back over into the living room and takes a seat beside me on the couch, but sits facing me, her legs crossed.

I stare at my lap, not wanting to meet her eyes. _'How in the world am I supposed to ask her? Whatever I say will sound stupid.'_

"Hey, Reid, do you-"

"Do you want to go out to dinner sometime?"

**Shay's POV**

Did he just ask me out? Spencer Reid, asking out a girl. Cannot compute.

My heart is beating a mile a minute, and I can't think straight. I didn't even get hit in the head, and I think _I'm_ dizzy.

"Excuse me?" I hope that didn't sound rude; it wasn't supposed to.

"U-um, well, I was just wondering..." Spencer began stuttering.

_'Dang, that's cute...'_ I blush as I think to myself.

"Sorry, I blurted out something random. You don't have-" He begins to get up.

"Um, no, it's fine." I grab his sleeve before he has a chance to get away. I mean, a date can't hurt anything, right? I try to smile, but my lips are quivering from nervousness.

Spencer looks at me in surprise with wide eyes. "R-really? I mean, if you don't want to you don't have to."

"What if I want to?" I raise an eyebrow at him. I just want to see his reaction.

"Well, then, I- I guess..."

"It's a date." I grin at him sheepishly. _'I can't believe I just said that... I'm so stupid!'_

"Yeah." He smiles back slightly.

I finally notice that I'm still holding onto his sleeve. I release it and swiftly put my hands in my lap.

Suddenly there's a beeping sound that surprises us both. We instinctively reach for our sides where our guns usually are, but there's nothing there. Duh. I start laughing at our reactions.

"It's just the stove clock." He motions with a nod to the stove top in the kitchen. It reads 2:00.

"Wow, I bet everyone's worried. Maybe we should call?" I look at Spencer. He nods again as he gets up and begins to walk towards his room.

"I'm just going to change out of, um, these clothes since they, you know, were on the ground..."

"All right. I have to go get something out of the car anyway." I head towards the small round kitchen table to retrieve the keys to the car. I walk out into the crisp winter air, the frost biting at my pale skin. The leaves scratch against the asphalt as the wind moves them along. My shoes crunch against the now dirtied snow, and I'm careful not to slip on any more ice.

I rummage in the glove box of the SUV, finally finding my phone. In my search, I also find a card with "Reid" inscribed on the front in my handwriting. "Shoot!" I say this to myself; I had forgotten I got him something for Christmas, along with everyone else. After the fiasco at McDonald's, I never had an opportunity to give it to him. I stuff the envelope in my jacket pocket and slam the heavy door shut before locking the car and returning to the wind begins to pick up, so I jog back into the apartment building. I hate winter.

After setting my coat back into it's previous position on the table and shooting Hotch a quick text message, I decide to snoop around the place since Spencer is still in his room. I walk over to a shelf overflowing with books. Some of the rows were organized, but others just had piles of books shoved on the shelf. I run my fingers along the spines of the books on one of the well-kept shelves. There is a layer of dust on the books, telling me they haven't been read in a while. Which is understandable, since Spencer can remember anything and everything he reads.

As soon as I reach to remove one of the books, I hear the door click. I jump slightly and whip my head around to see the source of the noise, even though I know who it is.

Spencer looks professional again, but casual once more as he rolls up his sleeves to achieve his usual look.

"Here." I extend my hand out to him, holding the card I addressed to him.

He looks at it for a moment, but then takes it and tears it open. It takes him only a millisecond to read the inside before he rips off the gift card, and the sticky substance on the back of the card snaps. I couldn't think of what in the world to get a genius, so a gift card to the bookstore would have to suffice.

My worry goes away when I see Spencer smile. "Thanks." He looks at me, and for some reason, I feel happier than usual. "But, I didn't get you anything."

"It's okay. I just got everyone something since you guys have been so nice to me since I've been at the BAU. I'm glad I get to work there with everyone."

"Me too."

I'm not exactly sure what he meant by that, but it doesn't matter. I'm spending my Christmas Eve (while skipping work) with Spencer at his house because he was beaten by a vengeful woman. What more could I ask for?


	3. Chapter 2 ADDON extra

Alright. This is an excerpt I thought about putting in the second chapter of my story "Coffee and Soda" but decided against it. Don't ask why. Maybe because there was too much fluff anyway? Or it wasn't as well written as the rest of the chapter? Idk. I'm giving it to you anyway. Hope you enjoy!

BTW: this is continued from where I was gonna put it in the chapter; the whole chapter isn't here.

* * *

"I'm just going to change out of, um, these clothes since they, you know, were on the ground..."

"All right. I have to go get something out of the car anyway." I head towards the small round kitchen table to retrieve the keys to the car. I walk out into the crisp winter air, the frost biting at my pale skin. The leaves scratch against the asphalt as the wind moves them along. My shoes crunch against the now dirtied snow, and I'm careful not to slip on any more ice.

I rummage in the glove box of the SUV, finally finding my phone. In my search, I also find a card with "Reid" inscribed on the front in my handwriting. "Shoot!" I say this to myself; I had forgotten I got him something for Christmas, along with everyone else. After the fiasco at McDonald's, I never had an opportunity to give it to him. I stuff the envelope in my jacket pocket and slam the heavy door shut before locking the car and returning to the wind begins to pick up, so I jog back into the apartment building. I hate winter.

After setting my coat back into it's previous position on the table and shooting Hotch a quick text message, I decide to snoop around the place since Spencer is still in his room. I walk over to a shelf overflowing with books. Some of the rows were organized, but others just had piles of books shoved on the shelf. I run my fingers along the spines of the books on one of the well-kept shelves. There is a layer of dust on the books, telling me they haven't been read in a while. Which is understandable, since Spencer can remember anything and everything he reads.

As soon as I reach to remove one of the books, I hear the door click. I jump slightly and whip my head around to see the source of the noise, even though I know who it is.

It's the person I expect it to be, but now _how_ I expect him to be.

Spencer Reid walks out of his bedroom in normal attire. From the waist down, that is. His usually uniform tie and sweater are missing, and his collared shirt is unbuttoned.

I can feel my face flush, but I try to control my facial expression. I can't help but laugh a little at Spencer's.

"O-oh, sorry, I thought that you were still, uh..." He stops talking and fumbles with the buttons on his shirt, but of course, buttons the wrong ones.

I laugh out loud this time before walking over to Spencer. I grab his hands and move them away. "Stop. It's fine." I can't stop smiling. He's more fit than I would have thought, though...

I leave Spencer to fix his shirt while I plop down on the couch again.


	4. Drabbles

**SONG 1: By Your Side - Tenth Avenue North**

Pairing: Reid/Shay

I walk into the BAU, a giant smile on my face. The first person I happen to run into is Spencer. How ironic.

"Why so happy?" I guess over the past few weeks, Spencer and I have gotten closer, but more like... brother and sister.

"No reason." But my lie is transparent.

"She met a guy." Emily teases as she walks up to our conversation. She sees right through me.

This morning, while getting everyone's coffee, the guy who took my order was nice. _Extremely _nice. If you know what I mean...

~Later~

"Shay," Spencer walks in the conference room and shuts the door behind him.

"Yeah?"

"You know, I'm always here for you... No matter what."

**Song 2: Our Time Now - Plain White T's**

Pairing: Reid/Shay

"_All _of you are canceling on dinner?" I whine as I follow the group out the glass doors of the BAU.

Hotch isn't even here, and everyone else seems to have plans (suspiciously convenient).

"Sorry, my cousin is having a baby." JJ shrugs.

"Too late for me, kiddo." Rossi apoligizes.

"Garcia and I have a double date. Sorry we didn't mention it earlier." Emily gives me a sympathetic look before heading out.

"Why don't you and Reid go together?" Morgan suggests, with an evil smile on his face.

I just glare.

"I'm free..." Spencer says this cautiously

"Fine."

**Song 3: Shimmy Shimmy Quarter Turn (Take it Back to Square One) - Hellogoodbye**

Pairing: Reid/Shay

(Spencer's POV)

Surprisingly, I live relatively close to Shay. Close enough to see her every morning while she's waiting for the bus. She says that it's too expensive to have a car.

And every morning, we end up on the elevator together. She has this face when she's on an elevator that's... amusing. Attractive, maybe? No. Wrong word. Cute? I don't know... It just seems that everything she does may be on purpose to impress someone, but I can't figure out who. Probably Morgan. What girl _doesn't _want to impress him?

"Hey, Reid," Shay smiles as she gets on the elevator beside me, just like every other morning. "What's up?"

She has that face now. Maybe she's scared. "Reid?"

I pull myself out of my thoughts. "Sorry... Um, nothing, really."

**Song 4: Heartbeat - Stereo Skyline**

Pairing: Reid/Shay

(Shay's POV)

WHAT is wrong with me? I can't seem to stay away from work. Every day when I'm at home, I have this urge to be there. I don't know why. I hate doing what I do sometimes, yet I always want to be there.

I call JJ for some advice.

"I don't know what it is. It's like... I can't live without being there." I explain.

I just hear her laugh.

"What? What is it?"

"Shay," I anticipate her next words. "you're in love."

"What?" I'm dumbfounded. What kind of answer is that?

"Yep. You like someone at the BAU. I can guess who, probably." I can hear her smirk over the phone.

I have an uneasy feeling in my stomach.

**Song: 5: Mean - Taylor Swift**

"Pairing": Shay/Ex-boyfriend

"Okay. Now, story time." Emily announces. I got sucked into this party; an opportunity to just destroy the reputation of our ex-boyfriends. "Shay, you start."

"Fine," I sigh. "so there was this one guy in high school," Everyone nods with anticipation, but I can see them remeniscing their high school years. "he would always call me names, and tell me I'm fat, blah blah whatever. Just a jerk. Basically."

Everyone's mouths hang open. Garcia is the first to speak. "Well, look where you are now. An almost FBI agent." I smile with everyone else.

"Yeah, he had a bad temper, too. He's probably somewhere, yelling at someone about something stupid. I can see it now." We all get a far-away look in our eyes before busting out laughing.

I'm really glad I'm a girl.

**Song 6: Mary's Song (Oh My My My) - Taylor Swift**

Pairing: Morgan/Garcia

(Garcia's POV)

I walk briskly into the BAU. My safe haven. Shay sees me and hands me my coffee. I nod at her.

Before I disappear behind my door, Morgan catches me. "Morning." He flashes me a smile. I smile back.

Morgan and I have been working together since the first day we both arrived here at the BAU. Been best friends ever since. We've been mistaken as a couple a few times before (which is very flattering for me) because of how we act. Others just tease us, while some encourage our relationship. Especially people who knew us before we even worked together.

"Oh, hey, Garcia."

"Yes?" I turn around to meet his brown eyes.

"Wanna go out for dinner sometime?"

**Song 7: Johnny and June - Heidi Newfield**

"Pairing": Reid/Shay

"Do what now?"

"Yep. A year or two ago. They were caught kissing in the pool by some photographer." Garcia taps her purple sparkly pen on her keyboard.

My flace flushes, but there's also a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach as I listen to the story of Spencer and his past love, Lila. "Oh... Well, I'm sure he really liked her..." I trail my sentence off, trying to figure out the feeling inside of me. I didn't like the words coming out of my mouth.

For some reason, Garcia just looks at me sympathetically and pats my knee.

_'Why couldn't that have happened with us...?'_ I wonder to myself. Then I realize it. I like Spencer. A lot. My thoughts lead to other places. _'I hope I can love him like that, someday... Maybe.'_

**Song 8: Hey, Princess - Allstar Weekend**

Pairing: Reid/Shay

(Reid's POV)

Shay walks in in her usual attire: a t-shirt, skinny jeans, and hi-top converse. For some reason, for this job, she pulls the look off. "Dressing up" for her is throwing on a tie or a vest with her outfit. But, so what if she dresses kind of like a guy? I guess that's okay...

I catch myself thinking this. _'Why do I do this...? I'm always... looking for excuses to talk to her and be with her. It's strange... I have this feeling, like I need to protect, to always be with her just for that purpose.'_

I pull myself out of these thoughts to have an actual conversation with Shay. "Hey," I wave for some stupid reason. "would you mind... If- if, um, maybe I could, you know, have you over some time? But, only if you want to..."

**Song 9: Never Grow Up - Taylor Swift**

Characters: Hotch & his son

"Daddy, I wanna walk to the bus stop by myself today." My son says confidently as he shoulders his race car bookbag.

I don't know what to say. But I know I _want_ to say "Don't try to grow up too fast. I'll walk you today. Just so nothing happens."

I agree eventually, but follow him a little around the corner just to make sure he's okay. I know when he grows up, he won't even let me be seen with him in public. This thought breaks my heart. He has already been through too much, with the divorce and then Haley's death. All I want is happy memories for him.

"Love you, son..." I whisper to myself, but I hope it reaches him.

**Song 10: Animal I Have Become - Three Days Grace**

Character: Reid

"You okay, Spence?" JJ waves a hand in front of my face, and I realize I had been zoning out.

"Yeah, sorry, just a little tired." I lie. It's from the drugs, and I know it.

"Okay... Just tell me if something's wrong." She pats my shoulder before walking away.

I nod and smile, but it's all fake. Every gesture I make towards everyone... They're all fake. I'm never okay, I'm never alright.

~Later~

"Hey, kid." Morgan waves as he walks by my desk.

I don't say anything. I ignore him. I need a fix.

"What's wrong?" He stops short and places a hand on the edge of my desk. It bothers me.

"Nothing." I say this sharply. Harshly.

"Woah, sorry to offend you."

_'I don't mean it... I'm sorry...'_


	5. Chapter 3

**Shay's POV**

Garcia: "Wait, wait, wait. Repeat that, please."

Me: "I _said_, he was beat in the head by a woman with a suitcase for a purse."

JJ: "No, after that."

It is now January, the start of a new year. Besides Christmas Eve, my holidays were uneventful. I decided against a New Year's party, for the sole reason that I had been in a bad mood lately. My days off had already been ruined, so why should I ruin someone else's? Unfortunately, I'm back at work now. And at this moment, in JJ's office being interrogated by the Tech girl herself along with JJ and Emily.

"Guys, really?" I shoot them all a look that screams 'not in the mood.'

"Really." Emily smirked.

"You're going to have to tell us sooner or later, Shay." JJ smiled before grabbing a folder and rounding the desk out the door. "Come on, we've got a case."

"You know, she's right. We will find out." Garcia bites her lip and waves a flamingo pen at me while I stick my tongue out at her and slam the door behind me. I'm such a kid.

All the way to the conference room, Emily and JJ tease me, but l just scoff and roll my eyes at them as we walk in, met by Hotch, Rossi, Morgan and Spencer.

This earns me a strange look from three in the group, but Spencer is the only one that speaks. "What's going on? " He asks in his naive voice that he uses too often.

I shoot my interrogators a harsh glare. "Nothing."

"I doesn't seem like nothing...'' Morgan interjects.

"Whatever it is, it'll have to wait. "Hotch finally takes charge as he points the remote to the flat screen T.V. hinged on the wall. "This is Lauren Santimaw," A picture of a slender girl with beach-blonde hair and green eyes appears on the screen. "Madison Dunaway," an almost identical picture comes up. "and Claire Muse. All three girls are college students around or in the Miami area. They all attend different schools, though."

"At least we know he has a type." Emily pipes up (with something helpful this time, instead of something about Spencer and l).

"Yeah, an interesting one too." Morgan eyes me.

"Shay, maybe you want to sit this one out?" Hotch offers. Now everyone is looking at me, staring at my now glaringly obvious similarities to the victims.

"Yeah, kid. Maybe it's best for just this one." Morgan, being the concerned older brother type he is, suggests the same.

l observe all the faces sitting around the round wooden table, taking in all the anticipation that surrounds me. It's suffocating. "Nah, I'm good." I answer nonchalantly, keeping my cool and not-caring attitude up.

Hotch looks at me a while longer than everyone, but agrees eventually. "Okay." Is his simple answer. "Wheels up in ten." With this, he dismisses everyone.

I guess because of the situation, JJ and Emily pass up the opportunity to harrass me and continue out of the room with Rossi and Hotch. Morgan hangs back while I clear any disowned coffee cups or mugs. "Are you sure about this?" He inquires as he leans against the table casually.

I stop momentarily to look up from my cleaning, "Yeah. I'm sure." then proceed to dump the styrafoam cups in the garbage.

"You know what that means then."

I raise an eyebrow as the cups fall from my fingertips.

"You're stuck with _me_ the whole time." He chuckles partly at his own words, but probably mainly at my facial expression.

"What?" I look at him incredulously, my mouth hanging open. "No way."

"Way." He continues to grin.

"Not happening!" I smile slightly as I race out the door to grab my bag.

"Oh, you think so?" Morgan yells from the meeting room, not having even moved yet.

"I know so." My confident smile is bright on my face from the busy bullpen, and Morgan just shakes his head from the stairs as he walks over.

"You're a weird kid." He ruffles my hair when he passes by.

I attempt to fix my hair. "Hey Emily, do you have a brush?"

"Since when do you care about what your hair looks like?"

Here we go again. "I am a girl. Plus it looks like a rat's nest." She glances at the mess on top of my head before tossing me a comb. "Thanks."

**On the Jet**

"Okay, let's start reviewing." Hotch walks to the rest of the group from the tiny kitchen area in the back of the jet with a new cup of coffee in his hand, ready to go.

"Well he obviously has a preference." Morgan repeats Emily's earlier words.

"And he stays in one area. All of the places the victims were taken from can be found in the 'College Station' of Miami." Spencer offers up his geographical information.

"So he lives somewhere in there, probably, or this area holds some significance to him. And the stresser took place somewhere in the last two months." J.J. speaks, her profiling of the unsub pretty accurate.

Rossi nods. "Whatever the stresser was had something to do with a girl that looks like all of the victims. Blonde hair, green eyes."

"Why are we assuming it's a he?" This question has been festering inside me the whole time. "It's 'he' this, 'he' that. What if 'he' is actually a she? I mean, none of the girls except Lauren have even been found yet, and she didn't look very beat up to me. How do we know 'he' is even killing them on purpose?"

Silence. That is my answer. No one speaks for a while.

"We can consider it as an option." Hotch saves me from all the stares. "We'll talk more when we get there. For now, get some rest."

I sigh as I throw my head back against the plush chair. _'Why do I say stupid sutff?'_ I wonder to myself. I always stick my foot in my mouth.

For a second, I smell the aroma of coffee again, and remember the last time I was on this jet. If things were the same as then, I would soon notice the faint smell of donuts and chocolate and be wrapped in the comforting scent. Instead, all I smell is black coffee in the coffee pot. Gross.

"Questioning the higher power, huh? You've got some bravery." Emily cozies herself in the chair in front of me.

I laugh. "I know, right? It's a radical thing to do. Unheard of." My joking is pathetic; I really don't care. But I am grateful that she isn't talking about Spencer (yet).

"So, you have any New Year's resolutions?" Surprisingly, no one has asked me this question yet. I don't really have an answer anyway.

"To get better at my job." I say hesitantly. "I guess."

I get a strange look from her, like my answer was odd. Maybe it was. "Yeah, I guess mine's the same."

"Psh, yeah. Neither of us need to lose weight." I motion to my stomach, (where underneath my shirt are some pretty abs, if I do say so myself) then to Emily's.

She laughs now, too. I can't help but think we are having a typical conversation between two best friends. Smiling, laughing, joking around. Though, at the same time, I feel so distant from her, as well as everyone else on the team. Maybe because I'm younger? Or maybe because I'm not actually _on_ the team; just an intern. Am I a bother to them? Is it trouble for these professional FBI agents to drag around a 19 year-old who is a wannabe profiler?

"You okay?" My attention snaps back to my conversation with Emily.

I've heard that question a lot lately. "I don't know." I shrug. "About what? The case? Or just life?"

We stare at eachother for a while. "You'll get through it." She pats my hand before getting up.

I go from staring at a person to staring at beige leather. My eyes are unfocused, and my mind blank.

Before I know it, we're in Miami, at the crime scene. The girl in front of me on the ground has the same color hair as me, but her eyes are now a cloudy shade of hazel. This brings back the memories of my first day in the field. I thought I would be okay. I was stupid. It was a bad first field case. A woman, middle-aged, black hair, had been mutilated. Stabbed repeatedly, then the words 'I'm a whore' were carved from her neck down to her waist line. I don't think I slept for a week after that.

"None of the other bodies have been found yet?" I can hear Hotch as he questions the local PD.

"No, sir. Just this one." The police officer is tall and lanky, very pale to be living in Miami. He has the same horrified look on his face that I've seen many times before.

"Okay, thanks." Hotch shakes the pale man's hand before returning to the rest of the team.

"None?" Morgan looks at his superior through his dark sunglasses.

"None."

"We gotta get this guy, soon, Hotch. This is bad."

I cough on purpose and look up at Morgan momentarily, away from the gravel beneath my feet.

"Excuse me. This 'person'. Or whatever you would like me to refer to 'it' as." Though his sunglasses are dark, I know he's rolling his eyes at me. You learn these things after being around someone for a few months.

I just smile an uneasy smile, not saying anything. Truth is, this case scares me. I'm afraid if I say something, I might blurt out my worry, or maybe even throw up from nervousness. I didn't eat on the jet for a reason.

**~Time Skip~**

As usual, we rent hotel rooms nearest to the police station. This time, there weren't many rooms available, so we're forced to share. JJ, Emily, and I are in one room, Rossi and Morgan are in the room across the hall, and Hotch and Reid are in the suite connected to our room. The guys played rock-paper-scissors to see who they would room with. Even Hotch. Then the game of rock-paper-scissors becomes serious.

"I don't see why they always do that when we have to share." Emily walks out of the bathroom in sweatpants and a loose t-shirt, drying her hair with a white towel.

"I don't know; they're such kids." JJ multitasks, typing away on her keyboard and carrying the conversation at the same time.

"It's because no one wants to share a room with Reid." I'm blunt about it, even if he can hear me in the next room.

I earn a few laughs. "I guess it's true. I don't know what would be so bad. Sure, he talks a lot, but... He can't be _that_ bad to be around, right?" Emily keeps the conversation going.

JJ and I both shrug.

I'm sitting on one of the queen sized beds, my long hair pulled back in a messy bun, sporting some black sofies and a tight-fitting white tanktop. Suddenly, my stomach growls. I get looks from Emily and JJ. My face flushes red as I clutch my stomach.

JJ laughs, but gives vital information. "Hotch's room has the mini-fridge in it. We stocked up before we came." She nods towards the door connecting the two rooms. She just saved my life.

I offer a small thanks before padding over to the door with bare feet, my nails painted a, what I guess you could call pretty, gray color.

I knock lightly. No answer. _'Well, guess no one's in there.'_ I quietly open the door, even though I know there's no one on the other side. Force of habit, I guess.

When I enter the room, the carpet feels the same. Same texture. Same gross feeling you get when you step on the floor of a hotel room. The room is pitch black. I close the connecting door behind me, not wanting to let in any light. _'Maybe they're already asleep...'_ Once my eyes adjust to the darkness, I try to feel my way around without bumping into the bed. I have a general idea of the layout of the room, since the girls' room is the same. Following the hum of the refrigerator, I stumble over only a few things - maybe clothes and the occasional suitcase.

Finally, I grab hold of what I'm looking for. A smile creeps across my face as I think of food in my stomach. I open the fridge as quietly as possible, but the hum of the fridge grows louder, and the light beams from it.

I squint as I search the fridge for something. Anything. I end up grabbing a blue Gatorade, (red makes you look like you're wearing clown lips) a leftover piece of chicken, and fudge I picked up with Morgan on the way to the hotel. I bribed everyone to pitch in to buy it. It's well worth it.

I shut the fridge door and attempt to cross the room without tripping over anything, since I can't feel around with my hands anymore. Of course, the first step I take, my knee pops. Loudly.

I tense up for a moment, but when I hear nothing else, I calm back down and begin walking again. Making it half way across the room (I think) already, I feel pretty accomplished, but just as I'm thinking this, I stub my toe on something hard. When I fall on top of it, I realize it's a suitcase. All of my food falls on the floor with a thud, as well as myself. Immediately, a lamp switches on, and I have a perfect view of the inside of a gun barrell.

"It-it's me!" My eyes are wide, and my heart is beating so loudly, I'm surprised Emily and JJ can't hear it in the other room.

Spencer's hands are shaking, his hair's a mess, and he's breathing hard. How attractive. "S-s-sorry... I just thought, I mean, I didn't know tha-that it was-"

I take a deep breath and sigh in relief. "It's fine. Though I didn't plan on tripping over a suitcase."

"Oh, well... okay?" Spencer finally sets the gun down on the nightstand, and throws the comforter off of him. He's wearing red plaid pants and a worn out white V-neck t-shirt. He runs his long fingers through his hair while examining the mess of random food on the floor around me.

"I was hungry..." I say sheepishly. Then I notice something. Where was Hotch?

"Hotch is over with Rossi and Morgan. I decided to stay back." Spencer explains.

"Oh..." A pang of guilt hits me. _'I should've talked to him earlier...'_

"Yeah, so, I guess you want me to turn the light on?"

"That would be great." I say as I lift myself up from a now indented suitcase. "Whoops..." I mutter this part to myself.

The light flickers on, and we both squint, trying to adjust our eyes to the sudden brightness.

I begin to gather my midnight snack, but feel bad that I'm leaving him alone again. _'Don't do it, don't do it, don't...'_

"Hey, Reid..."

"Hm?" He's pouring a drink, his back facing me.

"Uh... Emily and JJ are already asleep," I lie. "so since you're alone too, I was wondering if I could just... Stay in here." I do anything but look at him, though I can't see his face. "Or something like that..."

_'I said something stupid again.'_

I think I see Spencer stiffen, but I can't tell. "U-um," He clears his throat - what he does when he's nervous. "yeah, sure. If you feel like it." Finally, he turns around with a steaming cup of coffee and wanders back to the bed.

**~In the Girls' Room, Normal POV~**

"What is she doing in there? It can't be _that_ hard to pick something to eat in a fridge that small..." Emily stops on her way to one of the plush, queen beds.

"Who knows what happened to her." JJ rolls her eyes, imagining a number of antics Shay could've pulled off.

"I think I know..."

Emily and JJ share a look and can't help but grin.

**~Reid & Shay, Shay's POV~**

I don't know whether to get on the bed, or just sit on the floor. The floors in hotels are disgusting, so I decide to turn on the T.V., grab the remote, and hop on the bed. Hotch will get over it - hopefully.

We both sit in silence for a while while watching the news, Spencer sipping on his coffee, me savoring the chocolate fudge. I decide it's too quiet.

"Good thing there's nothing about the case on here." I say.

Spencer just nods, not helping the situation.

Then I remember something. "Hey, remember a few weeks ago... You wanted to talk to me about something." My arms are wrapped around my legs, and I rest my head on my knees to look at Spencer.

He sets down his mug on the nightstand tentatively, trying not to make a loud noise. "About your internship..." It's more of a statement than a question.

"Yeah."

"Working in the BAU isn't something teenagers usually aspire to do."

He has a point. Most 19 year-olds want to dream big, but waste their college lives at parties, not around dead bodies. Then again, I guess Spencer doesn't understand that I'm not like most teenagers.

He continues. "You actually applied for an internship, and had studied this before..." He clears his throat. "And, um..." Momentarily he avoids eye contact, his eyes darting back and forth.

"What?" My heart is pounding out of my chest again, but for a different reason this time. Panic.

"Well, because it's unusual, I was just wondering, out of, uh, curiosity if you ever had maybe... A connection?" Spencer's staring straight into my eyes now, but I feel like he's reading my mind. Does he know? How could he find out?

I try to calm down and not look nervous, which is very hard when you're talking to a person who's_ job _it is to notice when someone's nervous, mind you. "I... I guess I just have different interests, you know?" My voice shakes a little, and I mentally slap myself for it.

Spencer eyes me suspicously. He doesn't believe me.

Not yet, at least.

"Do you really think I have connections? What kind of 'connections' could I have?" I add air quotes around 'connections' for emphasis. "I'm just an unusal girl. You'll just have to accept that."

"I do accept that."

"Hey." I smack him playfully on the arm, but we're both smiling.

Again, we sit in silence, just watching the T.V. screen. _'That was close... I'm just glad I'm a good liar. But how in the world did he figure that out...?'_

Suddenly, I hear the door handle rattle, and my head snaps towards the sound. "Gotta go." I quickly hop out of bed, taking my gatorade and chicken with me. "Bye." I wave as I quietly shut the connecting door.

"That was close." I let out a breath I didn't realize I had been holding in.

"What was close?" JJ and Emily both talk at the same time.

"Uh... Nothing." Obvious lie.

"You _do_ know we aren't stupid, right?" Emily speaks for the both of them.

"Whatever. It was nothing."

"You were in there a while..." JJ glances at the door.

"So?"

"'So?' she says..." I'm being laughed at. Great.

I just roll my eyes.

**~In The Other Room..., Reid's POV~**

Shay leaves and closes the door behind her just before Hotch comes in. I can hear her, JJ, and Emily talking about something. Who knows what it is, though.

"Thought you were asleep."

"Was." I follow Hotch's line of sight to the spot next to me. The covers aren't pulled back, just wrinkled and messed up.

He stares at me for a while before I get it. "I, um, got... restless." This comes out more as a question than a statement. I can never answer questions like these normally.

Hotch doesn't say anything, just switches off the lights and walks over to his own bed. There's an awkward silence.

"'Night." The awkward silence ends, but a heavier one replaces it.

**~Back to Shay's POV~**

I crawl into my own bed; Emily and JJ agreed to share one. We don't have to play rock-paper-scissors to make our own decisions.

The nightmare starts once again as my heavy eyelids close, and I drift to sleep.

_Monsters that want to devour me. Closer, they're getting closer. Too close. My back hits a tree. Dead end._ _They're coming. Their bright yellow eyes full of lust for blood. My blood. They get nearer, nearer, nearer..._ _Then there are footsteps. New footsteps, not the padding of paws and claws against the forest floor. The footsteps are in front of me, but I don't see anything. They are walking on leaves and twigs, but are almost silent. I can hear them breathing now. The breath is warm on my forehead, and brushes the hair out of my face. they're reaching towards me and suddenly..._

There's a hand on my mouth. A strong hand, but not a very big one. The palm is small, and fingers very thin.

I've woken up into another nightmare.

My eyes snap open, but all I see is a pair of blue eyes surrounded by black.

"Get up." The voice whispers to me. It is in a hushed and hoarse voice.

I slowly lift the covers off of my body and sit up as quietly as possible, trying not to let the bed make any noise. Hands shaking, heart pounding, the only thing I can do is what they want me to. Do I really have a choice?

This person, dressed in all black (from what I can tell), grabs my arm and jerks it towards the door. My mind races with thoughts, but I don't know what to do. What I can do. Earlier, the moonlight shone on the blade of a knife. If I say anything, I'll be dead.

Then a though occurs to me. I could be dead either way.


	6. Chapter 4

I try to focus. Try to look for anything that will help me. But there's nothing in the hallway or stairwell of a hotel that I can get to.

We walk down another long hallway, and are almost to the lobby. I stop when the dark figure stops. There's a receptionist at the desk.

"Act natural." It's a woman's voice.

_'I knew it...'_ I can't feel proud of myself about this right now, though, seeing as I'm being kidnapped.

I nod my head, and she removes the mask covering her face to reveal long, stringy hair and a worn face. Her eyes are an even brighter blue than in the hotel room, but there are dark circles under her eyes, and wrinkles are starting to show on her face. She has to be at least 50, but her grip on my arm is strong. She continues to remove the black jacket she's wearing, replaced with a floral pattern blouse.

She says to act natural, but I'm wearing my PJ's. How natural does that look?

We walk at normal pace by the reception desk, but she's still holding my arm, her nails digging into my arm.

"Late night errand." She smiles at the receptionist.

The man behind the counter just looks up for a second, then back to whatever he's doing. He doesn't really care that a mother and daughter have an errand to run, and I wish I could tell him that's not what this is. This is someone working with the FBI being kidnapped by a serial killer. But I can't, and this thought scares me.

As we walk outside, a brisk, cool air hits my face and runs its fingers through my hair. It's much warmer in Miami during the winter, unlike Virginia, and I'm thankful for it, but I wish I wouldn't be experiencing it _this_ way.

We walk to the back of the parking lot, where there are no lights. It sets the mood quite nicely.

"I'm just glad you're safe." This woman grabs my shoulders, gently this time, then embraces me in a hug.

It sends a chill up my spine. I don't move; my hands are lifeless, hanging at my sides. I'm suffocated by her perfume, but she finally lets go.

"I told you not to play with strangers. Who knows what could've happened to you." She sighs and pats my head like I'm her own. "I'm sorry I was so stern in there, I just needed to get you out of that place and back home as soon as possible." She's now holding my hand with her own and patting it.

I don't know what to say to this. _'She thinks I'm her child, and that I've run away. Something happened with her daughter, and it's causing all this.'_

"U-um..." I slowly detach my hand from hers. "I'm not your daughter." My voice is shaking, and I feel like I might throw up. "You must be mistaken. I'm sorry." I attempt to turn around and leave, but I'm yanked backward.

"Oh, of course you're my daughter! Why would you think anything else?" She kisses my forehead before leading me to an old BMW. "Come on, let's go home. It's much safer there. No one will hurt you, Ashley."

I can see already that reasoning with her won't work, so I might as well just play along for now. I get in the car and sit on the cold leather seat. It's stiff; no one's sat in it for a while. Years, maybe.

She turns on the radio, and a song from what I estimate is the 70's begins playing. She turns it up. "I used to love this song." She smiles and starts humming to the tune.

_'I have to do something to at least find out who she is...'_ I think to myself, then something pops in my head.

"So, um... Mom," The words are bitter in my mouth.

"Yes?"

"I'm doing this project in school... And, um," I clear my throat to try to keep my voice steady. "It's for a family tree, so can you just give me information? Like, spell your name. All of them." It sounds stupid for a child not to know her own mother's name and how to spell it, but it's all I can think of.

"You're so silly, Ash." She reaches over and ruffles my hair. "You're homeschooled! I didn't assign a project. But it does sound like a good idea, if you want me to look into it." She turns and looks at me with a warm smile on her face, looking at me as if I really am her child again.

"But you always have wanted to go to a public high school..." She gets a faraway look in her eyes. "You know, I looked into public high school records, and high school can be a scary place. I also was homeschooled, but you already know that. Homeschooling isn't bad, right?"

"Yeah... Right."

**~Back at the hotel, Reid's POV~**

I toss and turn in the bed. Something doesn't feel right. Something's bothering me, but I don't know what it is. _'Must be something I forgot...'_ I conclude with this thought, and try to go back to sleep, but my eyes just won't stay closed. My next move may be consequential, but I decide that, if something really is wrong, and I don't do anything about it, it'll be my fault.

I roll over in the bed, facing Hotch. "Hotch..." I whisper.

No response.

"Hotch." Normal tone of voice this time.

Nothing.

I turn on the bedside lamp, and Hotch blinks a few times before his eyes open. "Reid, what are you doing?"

"Something's wrong." I don't know what else to say.

"What?"

"I, I don't know. Something just seems wrong. Something's not right."

"It's probably nothing. Just go back to sleep." He turns to go to sleep again.

"No, no... I'm sure something's wrong. I think we need to check on everyone." Then it hits me. Whatever's wrong doesn't have to do with me; it has to do with someone else. "You know that feeling, when you just _know_ something's wrong, but you can't exactly figure it out, and you're really-"

"Yeah. I get it. I'll go and check on Rossi and Morgan, you go in Emily, JJ, and Shay's room."

I follow Hotch's orders and get out of bed, then rush to the connecting door and knock. No one answers.

I flip the lock, and walk in. "Um... Emily?" I say this rather loudly so I can wake her up.

"What, Reid?" She sounds annoyed.

"Wake up. Something's wrong."

At this, she jolts out of bed, and switches on a light, illuminating the room. And JJ's irritated and confused face.

"What the-" She begins to complain, but is cut short.

"Wait. Where's Shay?"

**~With Shay, Shay's POV~**

We've been driving only about fifteen mintues now, according to the digital clock in the car, but it seems every mile takes an hour to go by. I can't think of anything that will get me out of this situation, but at least everyone will know I'm gone by morning. Hopefully sooner.

"So... How much longer will it be? How far was I from the house?" I'm 'getting into character' now, pretending I actually had run away.

"Only a few mintues. You were only about twenty miles from home, thank goodness. Any farther, and I don't know if I could have been able to find you."

I can't help but think she would have done anything to find me. And I mean anything.

When we pull up to the house, all I see is its sillhouette, but it still gives off an ominous feeling. Almost a feeling of death.

I follow her, who turns out to be Jackie, out of the car and onto the front porch. There are rocking chairs, but they are rotted and molded, along with the rest of the porch. When we enter the house, it looks lived in, like a normal two person household. But everything I think has happened in this house is far from normal.

"You should go take a shower. I'll get dinner ready." Jackie wanders into the kitchen, so I take this as a chance to explore the upstairs.

When I walk on them, each step creaks loudly. _'Well, won't be able to sneak out downstairs...'_ I wander up the stairs, find an outdated bathroom to the left, and what looks like "my" bedroom to the right. I walk into the bedroom, and take in the pastel pink walls, one of them covered in yellow flowers. It's a girl's room. A real girl. A girl that _isn't _like me. I'm not a normal girl, and I know it. But seeing this room, and a mom that loves her daughter this much... It hurts. How did my mom ever love me when I was so different? I'm sure she was excited when she knew she was having a girl, but when I turned out like I have, she was probably disappointed. She wanted someone to go shopping with, and someone who would go get a manipedi with her. All I wanted to do when I was younger was stay at home and listen to music.

I'm pulled away from my thoughts when I hear a knock on the door. I try to think of anything to look like a normal teenage girl. I rush to the bed, grab a book off of a shelf, and lay on my stomach with my feet crossed behind me in the air. I feel weird. I don't think I've ever done this before, just seen it in movies and T.V. shows.

"Oh, good. You're finally reading." Jackie is leaning against the door frame with a stain on an old, red overused apron tied around her.

"Yeah... Thought I'd pick it up." I think I'm getting better at acting.

"Well, if you want dinner, it's downstairs."

"I don't know, I'm not feeling well. Maybe you could save some for me?"

Suddenly, there is a flash of anger on her face, but it leaves as quickly as it came. "Okay, I'll see what I can do."

I'm a little worried now. What if I did something to make her mad? _'Does she take care of them, then as soon as they make her mad, she kills them? Is that why all the girls were found at different times? Because some lasted longer than others?'_ I try to figure out everything in my head, but a thought keeps coming back to me. What if I never get out of here? What if no one _ever_ finds me?

**~Hotel, Reid's POV~**

"Okay, well, what do we do?" JJ is frantic.

"We need to check that we're not worrying over nothing. Prentiss and Morgan can go check in the hallways at vending and ice machines," Both nod, immediately taking off after Hotch finishes his orders.

"All we can do is wait for them. JJ, see if she has her cellphone on her. Reid and I will stay in here and look for anything that tells us where she was going,"

I feel uneasy at his words, and judging by JJ's expression, so does she.

"If she was going anywhere..." He adds to his sentence, maybe trying to reassure us a little. It's not working.

Hotch and I wander around the room when all of the sudden there is a ringing noise - a Japanese tune. It's Shay's cell-phone. I walk over to the table and see "JJ" bright blue on the screen.

"Great." JJ's cellphone is tossed on the bed carelessly by it's owner.

Just then, Morgan runs in the door, breathing heavily, Emily trailing behind. He doesn't say a word. He just shakes his head.

At this point, there is a defeated and tense feeling in the room. Everyone is thinking _'What happened to her?'_

"W-well," I clear my throat, trying to cut into the heavy silence. "It looks like she got out of the bed on her own; she wasn't dragged." Everyone's eyes follow my words to the only slightly ruffled sheets. "And, uh, there isn't a change of clothes, so she was probably in a hurry."

"Do you think she went by herself? I mean, on something about the case?" Emily asks.

"She knows that's against protocall. Shay's too smart for that; she wouldn't." Hotch is staring at the floor with a creased forehead.

"Aaron's right," Rossi finally speaks up. "Shay had to have been taken."

Everyone exchanges glances.

"But how? Emily and I were in here too. How come we weren't taken, or even killed, for that matter?" JJ is standing with arms crossed, her fingers rubbing together the soft material of her long-sleeved top. Everyone is fidgeting in some way. We're all nervous.

"Maybe the unsub-" Hotch catches himself. "I unconciously called the kidnapper the unsub."

No one seems to get why he pointed out this obvious mistake.

"It's the unsub. Maybe Shay was on to something, and he found out. He had to get rid of a threat."

"Or _she_." I repeat Shay's earlier words. I'm shot looks from all directions. "If the unsub is a woman, she _wouldn't_ hurt Emily or JJ because she just can't. She wouldn't kill Shay on the spot because she just can't. Her motherly tendencies won't let her." I finally thought of something that could help. Now we just need to do something with it.

**~Shay's POV~**

_'I have to find a way out of here...'_ Is all I'm thinking for the next hour over and over again._ 'Even if I am fifteen miles away from the hotel, there was a few stores on the way here...'_

I wander into the bathroom, painted in a pail purple color. It hasn't been painted in maybe ten years. The room itself gives off a musty smell, and I discover it is coming from a dirty clothes bin in the far corner of the room bye a closet full of towels and washcloths. I run my fingers along the white cloth, dirty from stains. It is still damp. That means someone put something in here recently. Very recently.

This discovery gives me the realization once again that I'm not playing a game. I'm not safe. This is real. And I have to find a way to get out of it.

I become conscious of the fact that my hands are trembling, and I'm slightly light-headed. I walk as steadily as possible over to the tub/shower and turn the knob up all the way up so the water is flowing out full blast, pounding in rythym on the plastic mat on the floor of the tub (the things they put in your tub so you won't slip and fall when you're in the shower, which have come in handy many times).

I need it to mask the sounds of me trying to pound the bathroom window open. It may be on the second floor, but I'm sure I can manage. As long as it means I get away from here. Unfortunately, it is one of the windows you can only push open, and it raises up. You can't slide it up and open. And I know screaming won't get me anywhere. From what I can see out the window, there's no one around for miles.

Suddenly there are footsteps coming from the stairs.

Panicing, I throw myself into the shower, with it still on, fully dressed. _'Great...'_ I think to myself. _'Now I'm drenched. I'll have to find some other clothes.'_ I sigh to myself as I sink down into the tub, letting the water run down my face while my hair becomes attached to my cheeks.

There's a knock on the door, and a voice comes with it. "Ashley, are you almost done? I have a towel and a change of clothes fresh out of the drier out here." For some reason, I am grateful.

"O-okay..." It takes me a moment to find my voice. "You can just leave them on the counter." I add a small and quiet "please" to the end of my sentence, hoping she heard it.

After the click of the door startles me once again, and I'm certain she has left me alone, I crawl towards the front of the tub, pulling down the knob with a 'clunk.' The water stops its incessant beat, and there is now only a drop every few seconds from the shower head.

I swing the curtain, decorated in a girly pink and purple floral pattern, to the left side and step out of the tub, both my clothes and I soaked.

I strip, and wrap the towel that has just come out of the dryer around me like a blanket. It smells like an old house would, with a hint of cigarette smoke. Not at all like Spencer's blanket, which I would much rather have around me right now.

Though the fabric is stiff and itchy, I wipe myself down before re-dressing into a pair of red flanel short-shorts (and I mean _short_ shorts) with tiny snowflakes on them, and a white top with a decorative red reindeer in the middle. They have the same smell as the towel.

I brush my hair with my fingers, then pull it up into a bun with the two hairties I always keep with me. This all seems too normal. I do this at my own house, and now that I'm doing it here... It scares me. I can't get used to this; I _have_ to find a way out.

I find a pair of thick socks and pull them on before re-tying my red Converse and heading downstairs as quietly as possible. I need to scope it out before making a plan. I once again remind myself that I have to find a way out. At any cost.

**~Reid's POV (Hotel)~**

Everyone is gathered in Hotch's room, fully dressed now, in normal attire instead of pajamas. We have all the case files and papers we brought from the office spread out on the desk and bed.

"Reid, you said that the geographical profile predictions were within city limits, right?" Rossi is hovering over a map, tapping his fingers on the desk impatiently.

"Yes. Due to the, um, tendencies of this unsub, she won't leave a certain zone. She'll stay in this place, whatever it takes. She's probably been living there for... Well, ever." Even though I'm not speaking in front of other people, I'm anxious and on edge. My hands are red from being wrung out for the past twenty minutes.

"Good. That narrows our search down." Hotch lets a folder slap down on top of others just like it. "Morgan, get Garcia on the phone. See if she can find people who have lived in this area for over twenty or so years."

Immediately, Morgan is on the phone with Garcia. I realize that, because of all the panic, no one had bothered to call her and tell her what was going on.

"Baby Girl," He uses his common term for the technical analyst. "I really need you to work some magic here. It's an emergency." I'm imagining Garcia waking up out of bed in a bad mood, mumbling on how it better be something good. "It's about Shay. We... don't exactly know where she is." I now can hear Garcia yelling over the phone, panicing like the rest of us. "I know, I know. That's why we need you. Can you look up people who have lived in the immediate area of Miami-dade county? Yeah, I know that's vague, but they won't be vacation homes or on the beachfront. They'll be old homes, maybe in the everglades, built a long time ago." There is a long pause. "Thanks, girl. You're the best."

I hear the phone beep off, and picture Garcia tapping away at the keyboard.

"Garcia's gonna see what she can do." Morgan sighs. He doesn't sound hopeful.

Hotch nods. "We just need _something_." I don't think I've ever seen him sweat this much without physical labor. But why? People from the team have been taken or held hostage before. Why is he concerned so much more about Shay?

_'Not that I'm worried about her, too, it's just that... What makes her special?'_

I'm yanked from my thoughts when the phone rings again. There is no hesitation to answer.

"Garcia?" JJ answers this time. "Okay... Okay... That's great. Liscense plate number? Uh huh, okay. Gotcha. Thanks Garcia, you're the best." We're all waiting in anticipation, all movement stopped, to heart what Garcia had found. The phone is put on speaker.

"There's an old house built back in the 1800's about thirty miles from here. The name on the deed has been the same for the past twenty-four years."

There is a sick feeling in my stomach, but it's a good sick feeling. This matches the profile exactly.

"What was the name, Garcia?" Emily sounds impatient, but worried still.

"Um... It's a Miss Angela Sonet. Ohh, says here she lost her daughter Ashley at age fifteen last year. Harsh. Shall I text you the address?"

"That would be great." Emily speaks again.

"Love you, you're the best!" Morgan yells as he hustles out the door with the rest of us.

In our mad rush to get out the door, I end up in the middle row of seats of one of the SUV's with Hotch and JJ in the front. The other car holds Rossi, Morgan, and Emily. One thing both vehicles have is an air of angst. Fear.

**~Shay's POV~**

I discover that the downstairs layout is about the same as upstairs, but with the kitchen and dining room added to the left wing of the house. Jackie is in the living room on the couch, with mounds of magazines flooding the coffee table in front of her. There are bits and pieces of them cut out, along with strips of decorative paper lying around where she is sitting. Scrapbooking?

_'Who cares... Focus.'_

I walk on my heels, making me inaudible while trekking across the hardwood floors towards the kitchen to investigate further. I found that this trick works when you sneak peeks at your dad's case files in the middle of the night because you want to write a good paper for a college recommendation. I obviously was not the perfect child.

I shift my weight up and down with every step, as to not put too much weight on one foot; I'm sure these floors aren't exactly new.

The kitchen is connected to a door that looks like it leads to maybe a laundry room or a mud room. It's worth a shot. I decide to take a chance.

My heart is pounding through my chest, and I'm surprised Jackie can't hear it in the living room over the noise of the T.V. I can feel the pulse in my head and throughout my whole body. With sweaty palms and blush rushing in my ears, I start to sprint for the door, hoping with every fiber in my body it isn't locked.

I don't dare look back at the living room, but I'm pretty sure Jackie is now out of her seat, alerted by my pounding footsteps.

I fumble with the door in a hurry, but it won't open. I can't seem to turn the knob. It's too rusty.

"Ashley? What are you doing?" I can hear her feet padding swiftly towards me.

My fingers are sweaty too, and the knob just won't turn.

"Ashley?" That dreadful voice is close behind me now; she's probably already in the kitchen. I think I might throw up.

Finally, the knob turns and the lock clicks. It becomes my favorite sound.

I tumble into the small, cramped room and clumsily lock the door behind me. I can see Jackie's face through the small, dirt-frosted window in the door. She's horrified. If she gets to me now, I'm dead. Literally.

She begins beating on the door and screaming something. I can't make it out. The barrier between us makes me thankful; I probably don't want to hear what she's saying.

The only downside: there is no other way out of the room. It is a small laundry room with one other small window above where the washer and dryer used to be, (you can see the dusty outline on the floor) but otherwise, it's a dead end. As these words go over in my head, I think about their actual meaning.

_'Dead...'_

I try to shake it out of my head. I focus on something else. There is an old rack used to hang coats in the far corner. I remove it from its long resting place and shove it under the handle of the door to ensure prolonged safety.

I don't know what to do after that. Everyone has to have noticed I was gone by now, right? _'Right?'_

The repetitive pounding of the door has become a background noise to all the voices in my head. They're screaming at me to get out of there. But also not to die. I don't know how to do one without the other.

I'm on the floor, knees to my chest, head buried between them, ears covered to block out everything else.

_'I don't want to be here, I don't want to be here, I don't want to die...'_ This thought runs rampant throughout my mind, and I can't think of anything else. A lump starts to form in my throat, and I don't try to hold it back. I think my situation justifies the act of crying.

The salty tears fall on my bare legs and form a river until they are absorbed by the soft cotton of my shorts. I'm shaking now, uncontrollably. I don't know what it is. Maybe the fact that I'm scared for my life? No... That's happened before. Even before I joined the team. I can't count the times I've been held for ransom or something else on the ten fingers I have.

_'Why does this happen? Even if I don't die, I'm going to be treated like a little girl who can't take care of herself. I'll just have to say-'_

My thoughts are interrupted by a terrifying hand on my trembling shoulder. I don't dare look into Jackie's face. All I'll see is the rage of an intent to kill me because I tried to run away. I tried to run, just like all the other girls.

All I can think of to do is scream. "NO! Stop it!" I try to jerk my arm away from the strong grip, but it's of no use. "Let me go!" I'm sure anyone who could hear wouldn't even be able to understand me; I'm not even yelling anymore, really, just sobbing loudly.

"Shay! Shay!" It's a different voice. And my name. My real name.

I finally open my eyes and jerk my head towards the tired and distraught face of Derek Morgan.

My breathing is heavy, and the tears are still streaming down my face at almost a rhythmic pace. From all the screaming, my breaths are short and hoarse. My shoulders are heaving up and down, but are also held by two strong hands.

"Shay... Are you okay? Are you hurt?" He's shaking my shoulders now, probably because I wasn't even looking at him, only staring blankly ahead of me.

But I don't respond. I can't. My voice is lost and no where to be found.

Now I'm forced to look at him. His chocolate brown eyes are melting their gaze with mine; he's at eye level.

Mouth half open, I shake my head twice, answering both his questions.

"God, you scared the hell outta me." Then Derek Morgan does something I'd never seen him do before. Or felt.

He hugs me. A close, tight embrace where I'm enveloped by his muscular arms, and it's hard to breathe.

To let him know that I know what's going on, I lay my forehead on his shoulder and begin to breathe normally, even though my heart is still pounding a million miles a minute.

He holds me at arms length again and stares once more. "Pull yourself together, kid. I know you. You'll be okay."

I really hope he's right.

Seconds later, everyone else rushes in to where we are. Hotch is breathing a little heavier than usual, but Rossi, Emily, and JJ are trying to catch their breath. Spencer is the only one missing.

My heart sinks. Or at least I think it does. I don't think I've ever felt this before, so I don't know what it is. Am I disappointed? Or just worried about him?

I'm torn from my train of thought when I notice I'm being spoken to. "... back to the hotel." I catch the last part of Hotch's sentence, and I can pretty much gather what he was saying. Let's go back to the hotel.

"Are you sure that's best? I mean, she was..." Emily didn't have to finish her sentence for everyone (including me) to get what she implying.

"I'm fine." I get to my feet, shaking, and walk past everyone into the foyer of the house and out the door, toward an ambulence. I don't bother to stop by it, though, because I know there's nothing about me damaged. Physically, at least.

I locate a BAU vehicle and wander over to it before opening the back door and climbing in the seat. After shutting the door with what strength I have, I sit in silence. Complete silence is what I need after all of the talking, shouting, and pounding I've endured in the past few hours.

I've stopped shaking and my heart rate is somewhat normal now. A few minutes later, Hotch gets in the front seat, accompanied by JJ in the passenger seat. They don't utter a word.

I hear the sounds of the car being started, a routine noise to me. It's a pattern when Hotch drives. Ignite. Put in drive. Back up about a foot, then finally get going.

The ride back to the hotel is quiet too, minus the sound of the worn tires on the bumpy road riddled with pot-holes, and the occassional passing car.

I'm still wondering where Spencer is.

**~Hotel~**

I sit on the bed, alone. Everyone is gathered in the room across the hall, discussing whatever it is they need to discuss.

Then there is a knock.

I still haven't found my voice, (which has been lost somewhere between pleading for my life, and realizing I wasn't going to lose it) so I slouch to the heavy wooden door. And, not caring who it is, swing it open, then return to my spot on the cheap hotel sheets without acknowledging whoever decided they wanted to talk to me.

The door slams, making me jump. I turn to glare at whoever just let it shut like that, but my facial expression, I'm sure, is one of surprise when all I see is a plaid shirt, solid auburn tie, and a sweatervest to match.

Spencer.

"Ah..." Finally, my vocal chords vibrate enough to make a sound. "Spencer." It slips. I call him the wrong name, and immediately I can feel my cheeks burning. And not because of tears.

"Hey." His one-word sentence is accompanied by that boyish smile of his.

_'Good. He didn't notice...'_ I'm grateful he didn't say anything about my mistake, even if he _did_ notice. "Um," I clear my throat. Then I realize the irony of this. It's almost backwards. "hey."

There should be an awkward silence. But there isn't. It _is_ silent, but not awkward. His presence is somewhat comforting rather than uncomfortable.

"Sorry I, um, wasn't there when we... Um, _they_ found you." He shoves his hands in his pockets and rocks back and forth on his heels.

"It's okay. I was a mess, anyway." I try to laugh it off.

Spencer gives me a wary look; he's seen right through me. "Shay..."

"I'm fine." I snap back. I feel awful. "I mean... Ugh, I don't mean to be a jerk. I don't know any other way to deal with stuff like this except to laugh about it." I don't know why I'm telling him all this, but I am. It feels okay, so it must be.

He doesn't say anything. He moves towards the bed and places himself right beside me, closer than I would've expected. Still, no words are spoken.

I have to wonder what he's trying to do. Our shoulders are touching, as are our legs. We're sitting in the middle of the edge of the bed, so we're almost being pushed towards eachother. You know, because of gravity and all that...

I peek up from under my bangs at his face, and am met by his honest eyes. I quickly look back down at my (or rather, our) legs.

_'He was looking at me too... How embarrassing.'_

The click of the door handle makes me jump almost a foot away from the bed. I once again ignore the fact that I'm in shorts and an old t-shirt, and continue to open the door for Emily and JJ.

"Guess I'll see you guys in a bit..." Spencer says this hurriedly as he walks out the door past us.

"We talked about it, and we think it's best we head back today. The case is pretty much closed, so we can take care of all the paperwork back at the office." JJ gives me a warm smile.

"Wheels up in 30. Better get packing." Emily winks at me before heading over to her stuff to throw it all together.

I don't feel like actually packing anything, so I just toss everything I've brought into my suitcase, even though I know I'll have to end up sitting on it to get it closed.

I do so, and it zips easily. Well, relatively easily. I hold a hair tie between my teeth while I gather my thick hair back into a ponytail. I already look like a bum, so why even try? Once my wet, stringy hair (I took an actual in the hotel room) has been slapped on top of my hair, I head out the door with Emily and JJ, the door, for once, shutting softly behind us.

We drive to the airport where the jet is, and board in a single-file line. Finally in a familiar place, I sink into the beige couch as I dig through my satchel bag for my iPod.

I don't get to find it, for soon there is a presence beside me. A stern one. I can tell immediately who it is. Hotch.

As soon as the jet takes off, and everyone is settled, he begins the conversation. "Shay..." I don't have to look at him to know what kind of face he is making.

I also don't have to think about what I'm going to say. I've had it planned out since I was begging for my life, to who, I don't know. "I know. You want to know what happened. Well, I snuck out. I knew the unsub was a woman, got Garcia to do some research, and contacted Jackie on my own. Reid said I wasn't drug out of my bed because I wasn't. I got up myself and left." I pause for a bit while in the middle of my lie to examine his reaction to it. He looks like he wants to say something, but chooses not to.

I continue. "And, yeah, I know it was stupid, and I can get suspended and all that crap for it, but whatever." I shrug nonchalantly and hide my fidgeting fingers.

"Yes, it was stupid. And yes, you _can_ be suspended for that."

"It won't happen again..." I mutter the rehearsed line.

"You're right. It won't." He gets up and leaves me to listen to my iPod in peace.

I thought lying about this would be easy, but it's not. I feel uneasy and unsure. What did I just do? Did I just lose my internship, AKA my only way into the BAU without using my dad?

I let out a long, irritated sigh before sticking both earphones in. "That's Not My Name" by the Ting Tings begins to make its way through my ears to my brain. Sometimes I hate Shuffle.

I feel the couch sink on my left again, except it is a subtle presence rather than a more, how do you say, menacing, one.

For lack of better words, "What?" is all I offer to the poor soul sitting beside me.

"Hi."

I recognize this partly shy voice immediately. Spencer. Again.

Once again, I act without thinking. "I'm tired." Is my stupid reason for me proceeding to slump to the left and lay my head in between his head and firm shoulder.

As of now, I don't care if this picture ends up on the bulletin board at work again. We both look like a mess, me in particular. I have a feeling it won't, though, and this gives me a better feeling about my actions.

A waft of dark chocolate and donuts surrounds me again, along with the caressing feel of what I assume is Spencer's plaid blanket.

_'That's right, Morgan. Post _this_ all over the world for all I care...'_


	7. Chapter 5

"So, what do you think's going on?"

"Don't know. It's too early to say yet."

"It could be..."

"I was thinking the same thing..."

_ 'I can hear you guys talking about me...'_ I listen to the conversation between JJ, Emily, Morgan, and Garcia (respectively) on the way back home on the jet. I have to grit my teeth to not say anything, and pretend to be asleep. I think Spencer is asleep, so I don't want to move. I feel self conscious leaning on him, and vulnerable. Like someone could do anything they wanted to. But the aroma that surrounded me gave me comfort. It was a mix of coffee and dark chocolate, but only a slight hint of whatever cologne Spencer was wearing.

As of now, I really _don't_ care if they're talking about us, because nothing is going on between us. Nor do I want anything to go on. It would only complicate things. And by "things" I mean life. Guys are just something I have pretty much avoided all of my life, and the one time I let my walls down that surround my heart, my heart was captured and broken. Those walls were built up again, stronger this time. I swore to myself that no one would penetrate them ever again. So the whole dating and realationships thing - _not_ my thing.

"Do you think she would've told us if something _was_ going on?" It's Garcia (through her webcam).

"Probably not. Spence wouldn't have either." JJ speaks next.

_ 'And you wonder why we wouldn't tell you...'_ I roll my eyes behind my closed eyelids.

"I'll find out from Shay."

_ 'That's what you think, Derek.'_ I can't smile; it would give me away.

"Find out about what?" Rossi's voice pops into the conversation.

"Look." The other four voices chime in together.

"Oh- don't want to be involved. Talk about it yourselves." I can picture in my mind Rossi trying to escape the whole situation. I try not to laugh; I'm supposed to be asleep. He holds his hands up, coffee in one, papers in the other, and shakes his head as he walks away, thinking _'Kids...'_

"Guys, we land in ten minutes." Hotch is the last one to speak up. He stays out of the conversation. I think he knows what it's about. He would never want to get involved in someone else's romantic life, especially mine since I'm only nineteen. After what happened to Haley... I don't think he'll ever love anyone but his son as much as he did her.

I can feel Spencer move slightly, shifting positions. It causes me to lean on him even more, our sides touching now. It _is_ a more comfortable position, but then that makes it more uncomfortable - in a different sense. The sense that, because he's a guy and I'm a girl, this is considered an intimate position.

His shoulder jerks up suddenly. I hear him gasp, and I can't help but laugh a little. I try keeping it in, but let out a giggle accidentally.

"Thought you were asleep." Morgan says in a smug tone. I open my eyes, knowing my ruse has been given away. I can see his smug grin to match.

"I was. Until I was about to sneeze." I give all three a look (Garcia has logged off because she knows better).

"Sneeze?" Morgan raises an eyebrow at me.

"Yeah." I realize that my head is still on Spencer's shoulder. I sit up immediately and can feel my cheeks burning furiously. "It's a Japanese thing, that if someone's talking about you somewhere, you'll sneeze."

JJ and Emily smile while Morgan laughs aloud.

"It's the girl version of Reid." Emily makes the group laugh harder.

I purse my lips, trying to be serious. "Excuse me?" As I say this, I can feel Spencer stare at me. I try to ignore it.

They all walk away, shaking their heads and laughing. I never get an answer.

I roll my eyes. _'They're such kids. I guess you never grow out of high school...'_

I peek up at Spencer through my bangs, but he's looking the other way at... Well, I don't know what he's looking at. There's nothing interesting in the direction he's looking. I even looked myself. I decide not to bother him, so I figure I better get ready and look semi-presentable for when we land in about five minutes.

I wander back to where the life supply of the team - coffee - is made and slide the curtain in front of me. I rummage around for my bag that I keep secretly in the cupboard under the counter and pull out a spare pair of blue jeans with countless numbers of tears in them. They're my favorite pair because I've had them the longest, and they're the most comfortable pair of jeans I've ever worn.

I change into my favorite pair of jeans and slip my oversized, short-sleeved shirt over my head before grabbing a neon tight-fitting tanktop out. I feel around in the bag until I feel the stiff texture of my black leather jacket. This, big surprise, is my favorite jacket. But, only because it basically goes with my whole wardrobe. It actually isn't that comfortable.

I flick the curtain behind me as I walk out of the small kitchen area with my bag on my shoulder.

"Got a date or something?" Morgan jokes as I take a seat in front of him. The seat is cold, so I cross my legs, avoiding the bottom of my legs from coming in contact with the cold leather.

All I offer is a blank stare. "No."

"Why not?" He says, flashing his white teeth with his charming smile. After working with him for a while, I can see why he's known around the BAU for always having a girl on his arm. But I have to wonder if he's ever had a serious relationship.

What a strange question. "I gave up on boys after ninth grade."

"You mean when high school started?" His smile fades, but it is still slightly there.

"Yeah," I scoff. "dumbest thing ever thought of."

I get a confused look in response. I guess he had a better time in high school than I did.

"There was one guy who was pretty much bipolar with his feelings, so I decided that it was better to stay away from guys from then on. And look where I ended up." I motion around me, and it's my turn to smile.

"I get it, I get it. But you've been out of high school for a year already. Why no boyfriend yet?" He moves forward in his seat, arms folded and resting on the small table in front of us.

"College?" I don't really know why myself. I guess I hadn't met anyone. Or wanted to meet anyone.

"That's an even better reason to have one. There's more of a variety." He laughs. I just shrug and look out the window at what I guess you could call the D.C. skyline.

"You make it sound like grocery shopping." I laugh a little.

"What if I set you up on a date?"

The question is sudden and takes me aback. "What?" My head snaps back to Morgan, who is now smiling almost evilly.

"A date. You _do_ know what that is, right?"

"Of course I do. I've been on one before, too." I stick my tongue out like a child.

He bellows a laugh. "Alright. I'll get back to you; I know some people."

Before I can respond, a voice over the intercom interrupts our conversation. "We're landing now. Seatbelts, guys."

Both Morgan and I snap our seatbelts in place, and five other "click"'s can be heard at almost the same moment.

Soon enough, we're all climbing down a small flight of stairs onto the runway , beginning our trek back to the office. When we arrive, all the lights are off, and the only other person inhabiting it is the cleaning man. He tips his ball cap when we come in, and everyone nods in response.

In a few mintues, Hotch has gone home to Jack, Morgan leaves in a hurry probably to a girl, JJ walks out while talking to Will, Emily gets back to her apartment with her cat, and Rossi has retreated to his office. I sit on "my" desk, swinging my legs back and forth, watching the streaks of my black and white Converse disappear and appear again and again.

"Not going home?" The voice startles me, and I jump, but it's only Spencer.

"Oh. Um, no... Not sure if I can yet." The smile I give isn't very convincing.

"Um," He clears his throat. "Why aren't you sure?"

I obviously can't tell him that I don't know where my dad is, so I don't know if he's at home or not. And I definately can't say that I haven't been to my actual home in three years. When I first started interning at the BAU, the FBI payed for a tiny apartment in a downtown area of D.C. After a while, it came to be a hassle to pay, so I told them I would be okay. I've been using paychecks for random hotels I can find.

I hesitate to answer Spencer, not sure if it would be best to tell him about my situation or to continue lying. Deciding not to get him involved, and risk revealing my secret, I lie. "Just... troublesome neighbors. Sometimes it's just not safe to go home." The word 'home' is bitter in my mouth.

"You could stay with me, if it's not safe for you to go home."

It takes a moment for these words to sink into the air. I look at Spencer for a reaction. He is staring at his shoes with his hands in his pockets.

"Is it okay? I, I mean... It's not a problem?" I grip the edge of the table and my legs stop swinging.

"No." It is a quick response, and concise.

"Well... okay. As long as you don't care." I jump down from the desk and grab my bag.

**~Rossi's POV~**

Just getting back from our case, I decide to stay a little after and finish up some last minute paperwork before heading home. I finally get it done, and seperate a spot in the blinds to look out at the bullpen. I'm surprised to see two people still there - Shay and 're having a conversation, but I can tell it's very awkward. Reid won't look at Shay, and I can tell she wants him to. I continue watching, and it only gets more interesting. Shay slides off of the desk she had been sittin gon, and walks out with Reid.

I smile. "What I would give to be nineteen again..."


	8. Chapter 6

**~Shay's POV~**

Entering Spencer's apartment for the second time, it looks the same as it did the first time I had been there. Clean and organized, but something is different, I just can't tell what.

"Thanks again... For letting me stay here." I say as I throw my jacket over a chair, my keys landing on the wooden slab.

"Yeah..." Spencer trails off.

He's acting weird, ever since we got in his car. His standoffish attitude has been getting to me. He's the one who offered, so why would he be like this?

"Are you sure it's okay that I stay here?" I watch him as he puts his jacket on a hanger and into the hallway closet. My eyes follow him to where he sits on his couch, bending over to pick something up. After no response, I wander over and look at what could be so important.

He's picking up chess pieces.

_Flashback:_

_ Spencer obediently sat on the couch, and I see him already making himself comfortable with a game of chess. 'What a nerd.' I can't help but smile to myself._

_ When I finally have everything I need, I walk over to the couch where Spencer is sitting, playing his game of chess on the black, wooden coffee table in front of him. I slide the chess board to the side, knocking over some of the pieces in the process. "Whoops." _

_End Flashback._

My eyes widen as I realize those are the same chess pieces I had knocked over the last time I had been here - at least a month ago.

"Hey, have you been okay?" I walk around the couch and sit beside him, leaning forward so I can see his face.

His eyes never meet mine. "Yeah. I just knocked it over last night. I was playing with someone." He continues to pick up the pieces with slightly shaking hands.

"Mmm. I don't believe you." I decide to say this out loud. I really wouldn't want him to think he can't trust me.

"Ask Morgan. He came over to drop something off. He saw her." All the pieces are off of the floor, and now tucked neatly in the box attatched to the chess board.

The word 'her' hurts more than it should. I grab the front of my tank top tightly, wringing it of the irritated feeling inside me.

"I will." There is a venom in my voice, and I hope it snaps him out of whatever mood he's in. I walk swiftly over to where I tossed my cell phone and dial Morgan's number. It's protocol that we all know each other's numbers in case of emergencies. This qualifies as an emergency.

"What's up, kid?" Morgan's voice comes over the line just as deep as in person.

"Um, I was wondering... You came over to Reid's house yesterday, right?" My voice is shaky; it's an awkard thing to ask.

"Yeah, to drop off his bag he left at the office. Why?" There is a background noise of a song. He's probably in the car.

"Was there anyone else there?"

There is no response for a few seconds, but it seemed like forever. "Yeah."

"Who?" I snap back quickly.

"You don't know her." He's hesitant about his words. I don't respond, hoping he'll take the hint. "Her name's Lila. You should ask Reid about her."

_'Lila? No one's ever mentioned that name...'_ "Wait, Morgan. Just tell-"

"Sorry, kid. I gotta go. Just ask him. He'll tell you; he cares enough about you." I can hear the smile in Morgan's voice. It's a sincere one, not smug or deceiving.

"Fine." I slide my phone shut, ending the conversation.

"See?"

"Lila?" This word hits him like a bullet. He freezes up suddenly, then relaxes.

"Yeah."

This one word conversation is getting on my nerves. I'm agitated about the whole situation for some reason. "Morgan told me I could ask you about her."

Spencer looks at me like I'm asking him to jump off a building.

"He said you care enough about me..." I mumble under my breath. It's embarrassing. And, to be honest, I don't believe it.

"What?" And, we're back to one word.

"Morgan said that you would tell me about Lila because you care enough about me." I say confidently, (at least, it sounds confident) crossing my arms and not wanting to look at Spencer.

The only sound I could hear was a clock's hand moving second by second.

_Tick ... Tick ... Tick ... Tick ... Tick_

Only five seconds go by, but it seems like an hour.

"I'm taking a shower." Spencer gets up from his seat on the couch and steps into his room before shutting the door rather loudly.

As soon as I hear the shower water running, I let my frustration go. "UGGGGHHHH!" I slap my hands over my face and let them slide down slowly. "Whatever." I decide to change into the clothes I sleep in. I search through my bag, and pick out flannel, splatter paint shorts to match the neon top I'm already wearing.

I plop myself down on the couch, and look around for something, anything, to occupy myself with. And I find it.

There is a copy of Pride and Prejudice resting on the coffee table in front of me. I grab it, open to the first page, and begin reading. I've already read this book about three times, but it's such a good book. I find something new every time.

**Reid's POV**

_'Why does she even want to know about Lila? And stupid Morgan. Way to make me feel guilty. I care about Shay, of course, but, it's because I care about her that I don't want to tell her about Lila. And now she's staying at my house overnight. Why do things always turn out this way?'_

I grab a pair of plaid pajama pants out of my drawer and settle for a plain white t-shirt for bed. I step into the bathroom only to turn on the shower, but I don't get in.

I sit on my bed, taking in everything. Shay's probably mad at me, and I know she doesn't get over things like this fast. She'll probably ignore me the rest of the night, and tomorrow too. Well, only one way to find out.

I wait a few more minutes, and decide it's been long enough to seem like I've taken a shower. I splash water on my face and pour a little on my hair to make it look like I had washed it. Walking back into the living room, I see Shay sitting on the couch, reading Pride and Prejudice. It's one of the only _good_ books I've read that's in English.

"Do you want to watch T.V.?" I ask, sitting down beside her.

" ... "

I guess that's a no. "Okay..." The television clicks on, and the History channel comes on.

**Shay's POV**

"No." I say. Friday nights are not meant to be wasted watching the History channel.

"What? But it's on-"

"Don't care." I cut him off. I don't care if it's about the most interesting science thing in the world. I wasn't going to watch it. "Give me the remote." I lean forward and reach for the remote, which remains in Spencer's hands.

"Nope." He raises it above his head, knowing I'm too short to get it from there.

"That's not fair!" I get on my knees and face towards him, trying to stretch my arms as far as they would go.

Spencer is leaning back against the arm of the chair now, which lets him keep the remote from my reach even more. He laughs at me. Like, really laughs. This catches me off guard for a second, but I have to keep my mission in mind: obtain the remote.

"Come onnn!" I complain, with my fingertips almost touching the edge of the sleek, black remote that would control this Friday night.

"You're never getting it. It's physically impossible." Spencer laughs at me again, showing his perfect white teeth.

I try to use his leg as a support under my hand, "Why would you want to even-" but slip on the edge of the couch instead. "Whoa!"

"Hey!" A hand wraps tightly around my waist as I squeeze my eyes shut for the impact against the hard floor. But it never comes. Instead, there is a weight on top of me, and hot breath on my face. "Shay, are you okay?"

I open my eyes, which are met with Spencer's worried brown ones. One of his strong arms is wrapped around my waist, while the other supports the body weight that isn't laying heavily on my chest. His eyes dart back and forth, but are still always focused on mine.

"Ah, um..." I feel my cheeks heating up quickly, and my breathing is short. I can't say anything.

Spencer's lips are pursed in a line, and the concerned look won't leave his face. And, as if his face wasn't close enough before, he leans forward more. "Hey, are you okay?" He speaks softer this time.

Then, for the shortest second, his eyes stop and lock with mine.

**~Time Skip to Next Morning~ (Shay's POV)**

With groggy eyes, I try to roll off the couch to get myself awake. Though, it takes me taking a second fall to the hardwood floor. "Ow..." I rub the small of my back to try and get rid of some of the pain. I glance around the apartment, but there is no sign of Spencer. I decide to get away as quickly as possible, remembering what had happened last night.

_Spencer's lips are pursed in a line, and the concerned look won't leave his face. And, as if his face wasn't close enough before, he leans forward more. "Hey, are you okay?" He speaks softer this time._

_ Then, for the shortest second, his eyes stop and lock with mine._

_ My heart is beating wildly, and I don't want him to hear; it's embarrassing. _

_ "I-I'm fine." I place a hand on his chest, which is surprisingly muscular, and try pushing him away._

_ "Are you sure?" He leans back to sit cross-legged on the floor._

_ "Yeah." I breathe heavily, but not noticably, having to catch my breath that had been stolen for the past few seconds._

I grab my bag and retreat to the hallway bathroom to wash my face. Beginning to undress, I remember... I don't have a change of clothes. "Screw it." I mutter as I pound a fist on the wall. I decide that I might as well wait for Spencer to wake up, so I sit back on the couch, patiently watching the History channel.

When Spencer finally walks out, I intentionally stare at the T.V., but can see him from the corner of my eye. He doesn't give me a passing glance. A feeling wells up in me. Not in my chest, not in my stomach. It's just inside me. It's unexplainable. It's almost a feeling of anxiousness, which is very understandable, but I'm confused as to why I'm experiencing it, too.

_'Act normal... No, that could be insensitive. But he deserves it, right? Well, not exactly, what if he really meant it... But that's impossible. I mean, it's... Spencer.'_ I decide to stop talking to myself inside my head for a moment to watch Spencer. He lazily, but quickly, gets a coffee mug out of the cupboard, pours the coffee in his mug, then begins pouring the sugar. And I mean _pouring_. Every morning, when I retrieve the team's coffee, I always put a mountain of sugar in Spencer's, and yet he would still add more every time, no matter how much I put in.

"What?" Spencer sips his coffee, both hands wrapped securely around the mug.

I guess I had never stopped staring. "Want some coffee with that sugar?"

"No." He says this simply, and takes his place next to me on the couch. Well, at least he's not avoiding me.

"How are you so skinny?" I ask, more comfortable around him now, and poke his side, which is surprisingly firm with muscle, not unlike his broad chest that had hung over me last night.

My poke doesn't phase him. "My mom told me I've always been this small. It could be high metabolism, but some other factors would inclu-"

"Stop." I hold a hand up. "Rhetorical question." I can't help but laugh a little. This is one reason why I love him.

"Sorry." His eyes shoot down to his coffee, staring at it intently while it swishes back and forth.

The air is heavy again, heavy with tension. Which of us should say something? Should something be said? These questions buzz through the air silently.

Something should be said. By me. "History channel?" I suggest, nodding towards the remote on his opposite side.

Spencer smiles his signature smile, not showing teeth, but that shy little smile where it's like you gave a small child a bag of candy. Or, in this case, a bunch of Rubix cubes. Just seeing this makes me happy myself, if just a bit.

For the next hour, we both sit in our pajamas watching a segment on Jack the Ripper, (which just happened to be on) each of us pointing out things that this report was getting wrong - because, of course, we know what really happened and many other details. During one of the commercials, Spencer said he'd wanted to get dressed, and had retreated back to his room to get ready for the day.

Sitting on the couch by myself, I realize this is the first time I've actually done something fun _without_ the team, but with just me and someone else - a friend. I feel stupid, but I laugh a little to myself, and the feeling that was inside me before is replaced with contentment instead of resentment.

Spencer strolls back in the room, his hands shoved in his pockets, in his usual attire - a dress shirt, tie with an unusual pattern, a buttoned sweater, and dress pants. I noticed earlier his dress shoes were by the door.

He looks at me, as if to ask "Aren't you going to change, too?"

"I, uh... Don't have any clothes to change in to." As my sentence continues, my voice gets quieter.

"Oh. If I had any clothes that you could, um, wear, I would... But, obviously I don't."

I laugh dryly. "Yeah. It's okay." Then, a very... Crazy, I guess you could call it, idea makes it way into my thoughts, and I regret ever thinking it. "Um, actually, you might have some clothes I could use."

The reply I get is a very confused and bewildered look.

"I guess I'll actually have to dress like a girl." I sigh. "Get me the biggest dress shirt you have. I don't care what color."

"Okay." Spencer is wary, probably wondering what the heck I'm up to. He returns into the living room with a huge, navy blue dress shirt.

"Thanks." I swiftly grab it from his hands and go to the hall bathroom.

**Spencer's POV**

Shay runs into the bathroom, carrying my shirt with her. I have to wonder... How could she make this into something she could wear. Let alone, a girl wear. _"I guess I'll actually have to dress like a girl."_ I remember her words.

The door clicks, and I whirl around on my heel to see Shay with just the shirt on, and I see it now. Every time I go to the department stores for new clothes (which, actually isn't that often, but that's beside the point) I see these dresses that girls wear, that actually look like oversized dress shirts. Shay pulls it off pretty nicely.

"Hey, do you have a belt? Either really wide or really thin." She glances up at me for a moment while trying to sinch the shirt at her waist.

"Um, yeah." I go in my room once more, and search through my now very accumulated collection of belts, and find one that I had outgrown years ago. I think I was still a teenager.

_ "Spencer, this woud look fine. You'll grow into it." Mom held up the belt, eyeing it up and down before draping it over her arm with the rest of the clothes._

_ I stay silent, not wanting to ruin her good mood. She's finally started on her medication, and I don't need nor want to interfere with that. _

The memory ends, and I realize Shay is calling my name. "Sorry, coming!" I shout back through the wall.

"Perfect!" She says, wrapping the belt around her small waist. "Hey, can I make another hole in this? It's still a little big."

"What? Oh, yeah, sure."

"Thanks." She smiles a little, then, finally satisfied, places both hands on her hips, turning to the left and right. "What do you think?" With a proud look on her face, Shay turns to me now.

"You look..." At this time, out of all times, I can't find words. "I mean, it looks good. Yeah, it looks good." I notice my own voice was a little high, and I'm certain Shay did too.

She laughs silently, examining her outfit once again.

"What about shoes?" I ask, rocking back forth on my heels. "Sorry to rain on your parade." I smile a little, but Shay's disappears. I guess I ruined her mood.

"Oh!" She runs over to the door, and holds up her blue Converse, which are a different color than the shirt, but they do match. "Good thing I wore my ones that I _haven't_ written all over yet."

On cue, both our phones ring. Shay scurries over to the table and, eyes moving back and forth rapidly, reads over a text quickly. "Man, way to ruin my day." I can hear her mutter.

"Yeah?" I answer my phone, still watching Shay.

"At least you got to sleep in," JJ's semi-cheerful voice comes through the speaker. "but... We have a case."

"Okay, I'm bringing Shay, too. We'll be there in ten." I shut my phone, ending the call.

**Conference Room, BAU (Shay's POV)**

"Well." JJ raises her eyebrows when Spencer and I walk in, and it takes me a moment to register why.

"I didn't have anything else to wear." I shoot her, along with everyone else, a look that says to not ask any more questions.

But of course Morgan does. "Going somewhere?" He asks, smiling stupidly.

"Nope." I say, sitting in my usual chair, noticing how empty the table is.

Everyone, minus Hotch, smiled a little. I tried to ignore it, but it was difficult when Morgan wouldn't stop persisting.

"Uh, yeah you are. You remember our promise on the jet?" Morgan smirks, while tapping his pencil up and down on the table.

I do in fact remember that conversation. Morgan said he planned on setting me up on a date since I hadn't been on one since ninth grade.

"More like _your_ promise." I give him a look that tells him to drop it.

But of course he doesn't. "Well, just make sure you don't leave before eight tonight."

I glare. "Sure."

"Okay, that's enough of fixing each other's love lives." Hotch says humorously (I think) while everyone laughs.

"Well, as everyone noticed, there aren't any case files today. We actually don't have a case." JJ announces.

I remember JJ's text. "Liar." I cough to cover up the word, but purposely make it understandable. I earn a laugh out of everyone again.

"Well I didn't think you'd come in if I texted you that Strauss was coming in to observe us during a normal day. Of paperwork." JJ looks at us somewhat sympathetically.

Morgan, Emily, and I all groan while Hotch keeps his straight face and Spencer and Rossi look sort of dismayed.

"Reallyyyy? That just makes my day worse, JJ!" I whine.

"Sorry, Shay. It's orders." She shrugs, then walks towards the door. "She'll be here in an hour." And she's gone, back to her own office.

"I'll be in my office. Behave." Hotch tells us, like we're children

"Same." Rossi nods as he leaves.

"Well..." Morgan starts, ready to get up from his seat when he's interrupted by his (probably) most favorite person in the world.

"Wait, wait, wait, wait!" Garcia runs in the room, bright purple skirt bouncing along with her sparkly penguin necklace that matches her headband.

We who are left in the room look at her expectantly, ready for her to start spouting words rapidly. Which is exactly what happens. "I just heard some people talking, because you know I always hear people talking, but anyway, they were whispering about Strauss coming and like inspecting? Is that true?" She breathes heavily at the end of her rant, eyes darting back and forth between my, Morgan, Emily, and Spencer's faces.

"Yep. Hotch says she'll be here in an hour." Spencer speaks up for the first time today.

"Sorry, baby girl." Morgan pats her on the shoulder before he exits the room also, Emily following close behind, offering a look of sympathy.

"Wait, what am I supposed to do? My office is... Me-ified, and so is my outfit." Garcia looks down at her purple penguin-themed garb, a worried look on her face. "And I'm supposed to fix it in an hour?"

"Garcia, chill. I'll help you with your office. We'll go pick up a proffesional outfit at the thrift store down the street. It _will _be okay." I say, since I don't really have a desk to organize because I'm not officially part of the team, though everyone insists I am.

"I love you, Shay." Garcia wraps me in a hug just as I stand up.

I hear someone clear their throat, and I know who it is. "I guess I could help too?" It's more of a question than a statement, but me and Garcia just nod anyway.

"So, office or outfit first?" She asks.

"I'm pretty sure your office will take longer, so lets go get that outfit first." I say, ready to tackle an almost impossible task.

Spencer holds up his keys. "Let's go."

**~Time Skip~**

"This one?"

"No. Too gray."

"This one?"

"No. Too beige."

"Okay, this one?"

"Too... Black."

"Garcia! The suit you're gonna wear is going to be a solid color! Pick one!" I had gone through basically all of the business suits in her size, but Garcia is the worst person to shop with. "We only have forty more minutes to get back and clean your office." I sigh, shifting all my weight to my left hip, waiting for Garcia to pick between the black and gray outfits I have in my right and left hands.

"Fine, quit being pushy. The black one." She snatches the black skirt and top out of my hand and huffs over to the register.

I sigh, setting the gray outfit back in its right spot on the rack. "She is impossible." Spencer and I walk up behind Garcia as she's done buying her "hideous" outfit, as she likes to call it.

"Get over it. It's just for today." I take the passenger seat of the car, while Garcia climbs in the back.

"So, Shay, what are you supposed to do while Strauss is here? I mean, no offense, but you're not even technically _allowed_ to do paperwork." Garcia asks, leaning forward in between the front seats.

"I don't know. Sit there and look pretty?" I joke. But, really, I don't even know what I'm supposed to do. "I guess I can ask Hotch."

"I hate it when she comes. If there are no problems, shouldn't she know that nothing's wrong with us by now?"

"She must not have enough common sense." I scoff, just as we pull up to the parking lot. We all file out of the car and back into the building, taking the elevator to our floor.

_ 'Great. Off to clean Garcia's office. How fun.'_

**BLAH. I haven't updated in foreversssss. I'm sorry : But, uh, this chapter is really long x.x I'm sorry, again. lol I hope you guys like it. Though I wrote it with writer's block, so it's not like "WOW!" So yeah... Please enjoy :] And review :3**


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